


Bittersweet Potions

by moon_hedgehog



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic), The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Drabble Collection, For Science!, Hard Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, au's, but that's all, lots of feelings, sometimes songfic, very hard fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:33:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 19,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12916821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hedgehog/pseuds/moon_hedgehog
Summary: It seems to me, love could be labeled poison, and we'd drink it anyways (c) atticus_basically just drabbles about my whole life OTP.





	1. Cream tea

**Author's Note:**

> after a long writer's block, I just took a giant list of OTP prompts and started to write about these guys.  
> here we have: mostly set in my own modern (?) universe, AUs, sometimes canon.  
> rating somewhere between T and M.  
> _  
> !and I'm still writing this!  
> \+ unpredictable schedule now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, it’s canon.

Rachel Pidgley was a girl, which you can't surprise so easily. Childhood at the sugar factory taught her a simple truth – everything is possible, even if it seems that it's not so. Tales of old Nanny – a lonely woman, who worked hard to survive – made her believe in spirits and ghosts, gliding silently along the streets of night London. A quiet sniffling of a brother at her side convinced her that every moment of happiness and peace must be folded in the deepest corner of the memory, in order to get it to the surface in difficult times and admire it like a stained glass fragment. When a stranger with weird-colored eyes pulled her out of the house in which she had lived her whole life and stated that from now she, Rachel Pidgley, would help him to build a home for the scientists from all around the world – girl assured that miracles really do exist.

No, Rachel was very hard to surprise. Accustomed to oddities of all the people, who live in Society, she smiled calmly at Mr. Archer's tricks, waved her hand to the regular arson of the dining room (obviously Mr. Sinnett), and cheerfully rolled her eyes, hearing the quit scrapping of Mr. Griffin's once again escaped mice. This is not to mention the fact that she and Lanyon had to keep a secret of their best friend, which could easily destroy all of his work.

When Jasper had appeared in her life, Rachel blushed and embarrassedly bubbled everything that came to her mind. She felt tiny electrical impulses somewhere deep in her stomach (sometimes those impulses sparkled in her eyes, and Jasper blushed as well as she). No, she wasn't surprised at all – not from her intricate feelings, not from even the more intricate feelings of the young werewolf. Sooner or later it had to happen, didn't it?

 

Definitely, there was nothing left that could surprise Rachel Pidgley. But when she looked in the kitchen in the early morning and saw a Mr. Hyde inside, who was enthusiastically making cream tea and smearing strawberry jam on the scones, the girl unwittingly realized that she froze in the doorway for a good five minutes. A small piece of paper with ragged edges was attached to a tray, on which was placed this ideal British breakfast. Acute eyesight helped the cook to discern a sweeping inscription “For Jekyll” on it. And many-many crooked hearts.

 

_Rachel had to beat a hasty retreat._


	2. Good thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam Smith - Good Thing

“How long will you stare at me?”

Mister Hyde snorted, and Jekyll smiled unwittingly. Firewood was merrily crackling in the fireplace, shower was lashing outside the window, and Zosi was snuggling cozily at the doctor's lap, not allowing him to even move a little. It turned out that the poor boy was chained to the soft sofa by his body, and chained to his assistant – who was decorously sitting in front of him – by his eyes.

“It's all her,” Henry nodded toward the sweetly snuffing church Grim.

“Don't you dare to blame an innocent creature,” Hyde theatrically waved his hand. “She's simply feeling cold… just like us,” the madman muttered, wrapping tighter in the plaid.

“If you were sitting with me instead of the floor,” Jekyll's eyes widened emphatically, “you wouldn't be cold.”

“Is this an invitation?” green-eyed brightened up, grinning cockily at the corners of his mouth.

Henry smirked and shrugged. “Take it in any way you want.”

“I wa-ant to take a way.” Edward jumped up from the floor with a single bound, dragging the plaid behind him, and in the next second, he was already on the sofa.

With one kick he threw off squealing and displeasing Zosi from a doctor's lap, and immediately fell on this lap himself.

“And what about an 'innocent creature'?” Henry giggled, gently running his hand through the messy Hyde's hair.

“What will happen to her,” the madman yawned, covering his eyes. “She's already dead. Unlike us...”

_Yes, unlike us._

“I had a dream I was mugged outside your house,

I had a dream in a panic you came running out.”

Hyde simply snorted, his nose buried in doctor's lap. Jekyll smiled slightly and continued to purr barely audible:  
  
“Too much of a good thing won't be good for long.

Although you make my heart sing,

To stay with you would be wrong...”

Zosi put her muzzle on Henry's left boot, buried her deadly-dry nose in his leg, and quietly snored. It seemed like Edward was ready to fell asleep too – he threw back the plaid, curled on the sofa and yawned again.

“You know, you'd look great on a stage,” Mr. Hyde murmured before finally succumbed to the sounds of the rain and Jekyll's warm hands.

“… I watch where I walk before I fall.”

Henry sighed, thoughtlessly continuing to stroke the strands of his beloved's hair. He really-really had never felt happier than on this rainy autumn evening.


	3. Passion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someday, present tenses will kill me...  
> _  
> Frankenstein is he.

Henry speaks. Henry smiles, shyly fingering strands of his curly hair, Henry blushes embarrassedly and completely childishly bites his lip. It's all driving Hyde crazy. He looks at his lover without blinking, like a bird, hiding in the shadow of the carved staircase. He watches as Lanyon smiles hesitantly to the best friend in return and mutters something very-very quietly. On his face, it's clear that he is seriously alarmed, but Jekyll's excitement prevents him from expressing everything he thinks. Jekyll's excitement causes Hastie a slight panic, but he honorably holds his head and puts a hand on the young doctor's shoulder. Instincts (jealousy?) don't allow Hyde to stay away – he leaves his post and slips into the room with feline's grace. The men immediately fall silent, and Hyde knows that he doesn't like it at all.

 

Henry speaks. Rachel listens. She bites her lips, desperately trying to hide a smile, and giggles softly into her fist. Edward would very much like to know what a good doctor tells her, but he's sitting on a cold windowsill, frowny peeping into the half-open kitchen door. Jekyll, flushed and sprinkled with unfortunately fallen flour, looks absolutely, blissfully happy. Miss Pidgley shakes off the white snow and hugs him awkwardly, burying her nose in his shoulder. Edward frowns harder, but instincts sleep peacefully.

 

“… you're absolutely abducted.”

Victor's drinking raspberry tea, without taking his eyes off the book, Henry's sitting in front of him. Speaks, but quite a little – it's hard to open to an old friend, who hasn't been seen for so long. Only fragments of the conversation reach to Hyde, he is too tired to listen to the talk on the other side of the room.

“… I didn't know that… but you felt that too, didn't you?”

Dr. Frankenstein puts the cup on the table, his eyes sparkle with excitement, and he embarks on a long and chaotic journey through his own memory. Henry laughs.

“… just as I thought… no, thank you, I'm not going to ask your advice when choosing a ring… no, Victor...”

Edward curls up on the couch, letting the instincts quietly curl after him. They don't discuss anything interesting, right?

 

“And what were you talking about with Jekyll yesterday?” Edward Hyde crossed his arms over his chest, trying to sound eerily, but Miss Pidgley brushes him off, smiling at the corners of her lips.

“Nothing special. He was telling me about his passion, that's all.”

Edward Hyde snorts, but retreats.

Edward Hyde doesn't even suppose that all this time, Henry Jekyll speaks about _him_.


	4. Flowers for Mr. Hyde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was rewritten because original one stuck on my broken computer -.-  
> and I think... now it’s even better?!?!  
> _  
> also, I don’t know why Lanyon is Hastie.

_During the Victorian Era, floriography became commonly used to express secreted messages that Victorian etiquette deems unacceptable to share openly._

 

Henry is an idiot. Now he is convinced of this as clearly, as in the fact that in the evening it will be raining again. A couple of minutes ago, he did something that he could never think of. And he might rejoice at his own courage – that’s it, but the black claws of regret already dug deep into his heart, not allowing him to breathe freely.

London is noisier than ever, people scurrying through the streets; and suddenly, around the corner flourishes a lush fair. Jekyll stumbles, looking around in surprise. Streets are full of tiny shops with a variety of goods: here we have tempting cockerel lollipops on a stick; and fresh baked goods, keenly striking the nose with cinnamon and fried nuts; and a hodgepodge of colorful shawls, in half with dresses. Sellers are loudly beckoning to look at their stuff, children’s cheerful laugh is everywhere, and watercolor joy’s spilling the air.

But Henry needs to be in Society. He wraps in his cloak and hurriedly rushes forward. However, soon his purposeful sight shifts towards the store with mechanical animals and insects, gaily waving their tails and paws. Jekyll frowns but orders his legs to move on, because it’s just some rubbish, and there’s nothing special about it, just a pretty machines. Unfortunately, his eyes never manage to tear themselves away from the shop – and this, undoubtedly, causes the condemning voice:

“Young man, you should look where you are going.”

The doctor turns around sharply. In front of him stands a short old lady, with a black-framed glasses in one hand, and a basket of tulips in another. Her narrow lips are twisted in mockery, eyes sparkling with merriment dance – and Henry feels how waves of embarrassment flooding his cheeks.

“Uh, s-sorry...” he mutters, shuffling.

The old lady chuckled kindly, giving Jekyll a tenacious gaze, and suddenly offers him flowers.

“Would you like to buy tulips?”

Henry stiffens. No, it’s unlikely. He has already managed to do something incredibly stupid today.

“They say they're very special flowers, and they need to be given to someone special.” She’s smiling and looking straight to the soul, and Jekyll can’t look away from flower basket.

He has “someone”, but after all that happened he doesn’t know “who”. However, hasn’t he decided to play the all-or-nothing game, foolishly putting his own life and happiness on the map? Now only onward and to the end.

“I advise the yellow ones.”

 

“Where have you been?”

Henry breaks into the Society, hiding his hands behind his back, and immediately stumbles upon Hyde’s curiously-irritated sight. Sending an awkward smile in return, Jekyll backs away from the entrance.

“Busy, busy, busy*… I left only for an hour. And where is Lanyon?”

Edward grimaces and rolls his eyes toward the stairs.

“And during this hour, Victor buzzed all my ears about Halloween horror stories, which he had heard in his childhood. Vffen I waz small-

“All right, all right, I understand,” Henry laughs, walking away to a safe distance.

At this moment, right after cracking and rumbling upstairs, Hastie’s unhappy face protrudes from behind the door.

“Jekyll! Your help needed! Archer ate half of the snacks for the guests! Sinnett set fire to our bat garlands! Griffin’s mice made God knows what in the ballroom!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jekyll mumbles.

Abruptly turning on his heels, he pulls out solary-yellow tulips from behind and almost forcibly shoves them in Mr. Hyde’s hands.

“It’s for you...”

And if the loud cry “JEKYLL!!!” hasn’t forced the doctor to fly up the stairs at the same second, he would’ve surely turned into a bunch of embarrassed ash right at the feet of his assistant. Which, by the way and after a short stupor, managed to appreciate his gift deservedly.

“And what the hell am I supposed to do with this now?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * “Busy, busy, busy, is what we Bokononists whisper whenever we think of how complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.”  
> ― Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Cat's Cradle


	5. Cats love Mr. Hyde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this also was rewritten, and, to be honest, original was better.  
> _  
> first mention of science husbands, yay.

“JEKYLL!”  
It was this wild cry that awakened the poor doctor, making him jump on the chair and hit his head on the equipment on the laboratory table. Sleepily blinking, Henry stared at Hyde, who burst in the basement, huffing and puffing. In his disheveled nest – which the blond proudly called a hairstyle – clung a tiny lump of black fur. Jekyll took a good two minute to figure out that this was a kitten.

“You decided to bring another animal into the house and didn’t ask me?” the doctor murmured half-asleep, rubbing his eyes.

“What?!” his assistant was outraged. “I have no idea where it came from! When I woke up, it was already there!”

“Where?” Henry asked with pure bewilderment.

“There!” Edward shook his head, pointing a finger at the ball. The ball, however, couldn’t stand it any longer – with a desperate squeak, he rolled down onto the lab table and rushed forward, through the obstacle course in the form of flasks, racks, and retorts. Jekyll woke up instantly, trying to catch the baby; the baby was dodgier and, fortunately for the good doctor, luckier. In the end, little devil had touched only one tiny flask (that didn’t slow down, and shattered into small pieces) by the tip of his tail and jumped off the table, hiding behind the cabinet with reagents. Right off, a ringing voice of a church Grim, who heard a noise and hurried to the masters for help, resounded from above. Edward and Henry exchanged glances; the next moment, the first grabbed running Zosi in an armful, and the second sat down by the cabinet, trying to find kitten’s scruff with his hand.

“You know, I’m starting to get used to those kinds of surprises,” Jekyll muttered when the terrified black kid was in his arms.

“What do you mean?” Hyde hissed suspiciously, following him to the exit from the laboratory.

“Last week a flock of cats saved you from a bunch of bandits...”

“Pfff...”

“… the week before last, a pregnant cat was following you on the heels, directly to the porch of our house...”

Edward puffed again and rolled his eyes – Henry even smiled, feeling it with his back. Stopping at the last step, he quickly looked for the ways of retreat, lying ahead-

“… apparently, they just feel a kindred spirit in you.”

-and hurriedly rushed to the living room, accompanied by the indignant scream of his husband:

“WHAT?!”

 

Lanyon looked at the ball of fur with pure horror. Katrina*, unlike him, was delighted. Jekyll grinned awkwardly at both of them, the kitten – new-named Louis – was pawing peacefully in his hands.

“Darling, we will take care of him, won’t we?” Katrina asked with pressure, burning her husband with a look.

The latter had no choice but to swallow and bravely nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Katrina is a crossover character, but it’s a weirdo crossover of mine, so you may imagine her like OC.


	6. Post it up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically about how stupid are sex jokes. because they are stupid. SO STUPID.  
> _  
> and yeah they are "married, with children". well, child.

Jekyll thought that asking advice from his best friend – was a good idea. Katrina and I leave notes for each other – said Lanyon. Tiny pieces of paper with romance and kind wishes inside – said Lanyon. Jekyll thought that this also was a good idea. God is a witness – he had never been so mistaken.

 

It’s all began quite harmlessly – Hyde gave him a suspicious look and shrugged. That was Jekyll who wanted romance, flowers, and ballads under the windows. Hyde already had a good life. A pair of heart-stickers, God knows where found piece of dirty paper – and there is a tiny poem without rhyme, scratched by someone’s indistinct and crooked handwriting, on Jekyll’s desk. Jekyll then frowned – this is not what he wanted.

 

Everything should be with the soul and from the soul – he continued to explain Hyde the next day. No feelings stirred up that greasy piece of paper in me, and by the way, where did you get it? We shouldn’t quarrel again (well, at least for a while), our daughter is worrying, so let’s try again and return romance to our relationship. Hyde just rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples nervously.

 

“What is this?” Jekyll asked threateningly.

Hyde glanced at him with a satisfied cat’s look.

“Well, you yourself wanted romance,” he purred.

Romance and vulgar flirting are different things – Jekyll wanted to answer him, but took all his power in his fist, doing his best to darken his look.

“This is the kitchen. Amore could see,” he growled, leaning dangerously toward careless Hyde.

He only smiled flirtily.

“She stole handcuffs and a vibrator from our room for her chemical experiments, do you think she will be surprised by some scrap of paper?”

Jekyll sighed, admitting his defeat, and felt that he'd been violently blushing.

 

Everything became worse on the fifth day. Multicolored notes with content like “You are the most beautiful man in the world p.s. especially when you’re moaning my name” and “I can’t spend a day without remembering how you beg me to move faster” frazzled Jekyll out. He was alone in the home, Hyde was on the mission in India, but still miraculously filled up his work surfaces with trite phrases. Postcards and notes came as if from nowhere, so soon the poor doctor began to suspect the entire Society in treason and assistance to Hyde. Every morning he woke up and started playing a game “find a love letter until someone else found it”. The large halls and ballrooms of the Society, the bathroom and the laboratory of his house, and even the damn cafe in which he liked to buy croissants – these nasty little notes could show up absolutely everywhere.

Romantic? But Jekyll didn’t think so.

 

“Enough!” he howled when Hyde just appeared on the house porch.

The blond man pulled an insulted innocence face and shoved Jekyll out of the way, going inside, but the good doctor didn’t intend to retreat.

“If I’ll see it again in dangerous proximity to myself,” he shook his hand with a pack of notes in it, “I’ll finish you, is it clear?”

“Oh, and how are you going to _finish_ me?” Edward purred, twisting his hip coquettishly.

Jekyll jerked as if stung, and God forgives him for the fact that the next minute he lashed out at his husband, pressing him to a nearby table.

 

Of all this, Jekyll brought out two things. The first – never ask Lanyon for advice about relationships. And it’s desirable to never ask him about anything at all.

The second – to keep away all writing things from Edward Hyde. And if possible, occupy his hands with more pleasant work.


	7. A play about the importance of nutrition, even if you don’t live in Victorian era

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s not a play, I just amused myself as much as I could.

Act 1, Scene 1

_A typical for London dull, rainy evening. Dr. Jekyll hurries through the narrow streets, pulling keys from his own house from the pocket of his cloak just on the run. In the distance, he can see a familiar facade, and at the next moment, he_ ’ _s already standing in the half-dark hall, shivering from cold. Taking off his soaked cloak, the aforementioned doctor looks around for the light, and, noticing only the burning fireplace in the living room, peeks in there. On the sofa, lounging around, rests his assistant – at his feet comfortably settled church Grim. Noticing his lover in the doorway, Mr. Hyde gives him an unprintable glance._

 **Hyde:** The food is on the table.

 **Jekyll:** _(sighs and smiles faintly)_ It’s pointless to tell you that I’m not hungry, right?

 **Hyde:** Right. On the table.

 

Act 1, Scene 2

_Early morning. Dr. Jekyll_ ’ _s laboratory. The doctor himself sleeps sweetly, hunched in his chair, folding his hands on the experiments table. The laboratory door opens silently and Mr. Hyde, by himself, creeps in. He carefully puts the tray with a plentiful breakfast on the table_ ’ _s edge, looking on his lover with a disapproving gaze, and just as silently retires. Soon after, Dr. Jekyll awakens. Sleepily blinking, he notices a tray of food on his table. Sideways lies a note, which doctor hurries to read. His face then distorts a grimace of despair and he looks helplessly at the food. The note reads: “You can forget about sex for a week, if you won_ ’ _t eat everything that lies here.”_

 

Act 1, Scene 3

**Hyde:** Eat.

 **Jekyll:** Hyde…

 **Hyde:** _(_ _threateningly)_ Eat!

 **Jekyll** : _(turning to the desk)_ I have a lot of work.

 **Hyde:** _(swings from his heels to his toes for a second, then sharply grabs the doctor by the collar and_ _draws him closer)_

 **Jekyll:**!!!

 **Hyde:** _(picks up a plate of pasta with pesto sauce, reels a bit on the fork and literally pocks it under his lover_ ’ _s nose)_ Eat. I don’t want you to die from starving.

 **Jekyll:** _(_ _stubbornly snorts and tightly purses his lips)_

 **Hyde:** Okay, you don’t want it good _(runs his_ _cold_ _finger_ _tips_ _down doctor_ ’ _s torso)_

 **Jekyll:** _(_ _bravely bites his lips)_

 **Hyde:** _(descends to the inside of his thighs)_

 **Jekyll:** _(screams and tries to dodge)_

 **Hyde:** _(_ _deftly, as if he ha_ _s_ _done this a thousand times before, brings the fork to the doctor_ ’ _s mouth and forcibly pushes it inside)_

 **Jekyll:** _(doesn’t cough, doesn’t choke, darkly looks at Hyde, but obediently swallows)_

 **Hyde:** Good boy _(smiles brutally)_

 **Jekyll:**!!! Idiot.

 **Hyde:** As you wish. And now one more spoon…

 

**Fin.**


	8. Mona Lisa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a tiny reference to [this lovely fanfic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11666088) in the end.  
> _  
> yeah, Paris is banal, but so am I.

“We won’t be schlepping around museums on our honeymoon,” said Edward Hyde.

“Don’t even think about it. We won’t go there,” persisted Edward Hyde.

“We should have fun, not listen to boring excursions in boring places,” snapped Edward Hyde.

The result of all this was that now he – after pushing through a huge line – was standing at the entrance to the notorious Louvre, gloomily trying to catch sight of his husband. He disappeared into the crowd of visitors, not even bothering to look back. Edward felt terribly lost – he didn’t want to be here and didn’t know what to do next. Legs had carried him to one of the halls with a high ceiling and a marble floor, where the blond tried to merge with the wall and did not fall under the feet of running hither and thither people. Someone’s hand confidently laid down on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Where did you go?” Henry looked confused and a little guilty. Hyde would’ve told him everything he had accumulated, but bit his tongue at the last moment.

“It’s you who disappeared somewhere,” he just grumbled, pulling away from his husband. “Well, so… where did you want to go? The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

By the enthusiasm in Jekyll’s eyes, Edward realized that it wouldn’t be possible to finish sooner in any case.

 

“The Coronation of Napoleon...”

Jekyll relished this name for a good ten seconds, and then again rushed into a lengthy reasoning and a compilation of all the facts known to him:

“Besides Napoleon’s mother, who was then in Rome, Jacques-Louis David allowed himself several other inaccuracies. For example, the golden laurel on the emperor’s head, instead of the traditional crown; rejuvenation of the Empress Josephine’s face, and...”

Edward bit his lip, desperately trying not to yawn, but still could not restrain himself. Henry, interrupting in mid-sentence, threw a gloomy glance at his husband. The last two hours he had stubbornly crammed into the madman all the information about the Louvre, its amazing collections, and the most famous exhibits. Past Hyde (or rather – past his ears) had passed one and a thousand legend about Venus de Milo, various notes on the journey of Nike of Samothrace, and admiration for the famous Theodore Gericault painting. A small part of Edward’s interest went only to a statue with a kissing cupid and a half-naked girl. He gave it an attentive look and hummed ambiguously.

“Sweet, sweet story,” he purred and Jekyll rolled his eyes.

Unfortunately, when they reached the aforementioned “The Coronation of Napoleon”, Hyde had almost completely lagged behind his husband and listened to him with glass eyes. Henry was sick of it.

“Since you’re so tired,” the doctor hissed, “we can leave.”

Edward winced miserably.

“Jeky, you know it’s not my cup of tea. Tons of dilapidated junk and colorful posters on the walls,” the blond snorted. “Thanks Gods, you’ve given up this idea of Ancient Egypt.”

Jekyll sighed. Hyde supported almost all of his interests, – from chemistry to bondage – but art wasn’t one of them. The most terrible thing in all this situation was that the enamored and because of that stupidly complaisant doctor couldn’t be angry at his husband for more than five minutes. Yes, and they had a honeymoon, after all!

“Fine, good. Then we go to the hotel.” Edward beamed, but Henry immediately and firmly put him down: “But before that, we’ll see one more thing.”

“And what?” Hyde groaned in displeasure, heading for the hastened husband.

“You’ll see.”

 

However, the first thing Edward saw was a crowd of people of all ages, height, and color. They were clicking their cameras and pressing their fingers to the shoot button on the phones. They were humming, and pushing, and murmuring, and even Hyde – who was accustomed to London’s crowded nights – felt uneasy. Jekyll stubbornly dragged him through the crowd, heading for something at the far end of the corridor. Soon this something obtained clear shapes of a painting. A painting behind the glass.

Jekyll froze and stuck, staring at another masterpiece of another master. Edward had tried to be imbued with his reverence, but in front of him, he saw only a woman in black, against the background of an unprepossessing rural landscape. And also she had a completely stupid smile on her face.

“The most mysterious painting in history,” Jekyll whispered.

Hyde raised an eyebrow.

“And what is so mysterious about it?”

“Her smile.” Henry gave a long, last look at the painting, turned around and headed to the hall’s exit. Edward hurried after him, scrolling in his head everything that he had seen and heard.

“What can be mysterious in a smile?” he asked with genuine bewilderment in his voice.

However, he completely forgot about the question (and with it – about the whole world) in the same second as he saw this very smile. Only on the lips of Henry Jekyll.

“People consider her to be the most beautiful thing in the world. Smiling Mona Lisa...” the doctor turned away for a moment and the universe around Hyde began spinning again. He took a deep breath and blinked a couple of times, shaking off the rolled obsession.

“You know...” the madman began hoarsely “I could’ve argued that the smile of some Mona Lisa can be considered the most beautiful thing in the world.”  
  
Jekyll stared at him. “And what then?” - was clearly readable in his eyes.

“Let’s call it “'the smile of Henry Jekyll'. The most beautiful thing in the world!”

 

Henry flushed from the neck to the tips of his ears, and Edward thought that perhaps they should visit museums more often.


	9. Children, bubbles, magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love Amore so much, she's my little pretty satan child OC.

Amore was the first who noticed a box on the porch. She rapturously widened her eyes and rushed to the mysterious device with a sparrow squeak. It was black, cumbersome, looked more like Uncle Archer’s next experiment, and much less – like a children’s toy, as dad Jekyll authoritatively replied her. In this weird apparatus, he recognized the machine for blowing bubbles. However he was more concerned not in the purpose of the existence of this machine, but in a way it ended up near their house. Amore only shrugged to this, enthusiastically embarking on the unscrewing the cogs with her sharp nails. She wanted to know, as quickly as possible, how this thing was arranged inside, not launching into dull guesses that her dad sometimes enthralled so much. Though when she had almost completely untwisted the first cog, Jekyll took the toy from the girl, making her moo in protest and pulled a sour face.

“But daaaad!” From sour, the face became childishly pleading.

“We don’t know why it was in front of our house, Amore. And I don’t want to neglect your and Edward’s security.” Dad told her admonitory, hiding the box on the top kitchen shelf.

“You think it’s a bomb in there?” the little girl’s emerald eyes widened admiringly. “But, then… but what if it suddenly explodes and blows up all our cookies?” she clutched her cheeks with her hands and jumped in place.

Jekyll wearily rubbed his temples.

“No, I don’t think it’s a bomb there. I think that this thing was sent to us by someone with a specific purpose, and I’m going to find out with what _before_ you break it down.”

Amore folded her hands behind her back and swayed on her heels with the innocent look of a blonde angel. Her whole appearance said: “What are you talking about, daddy? I’m quite an exemplary girl who never did anything wrong”. Henry could surely add here “well, not counting the accidental arson of the living room, oh, and I brought Aunt Rachel to a nervous breakdown somehow, and somehow personally ate a whole box of chocolate for guests”.

 

Amore had already been looking at the ill-fated and so-desired box for a long time. Dad Jekyll had left to the Society and the girl was terribly bored, because in the whole house she was alone, not counting Zosi. But the Grim was skirring in the upper floors, doing her mysterious deeds and stubbornly did not want to respond to her nickname.

Before leaving, Henry promised that daddy Hyde would be home soon, and now all the little girl’s hope was only at him.

The day sloped to the evening and soon the front door opened wide. Amore fulminantly scuttled under the table, giggling quietly from an anticipation of her trick. She had heard a whining sound from Zosi, who ran to the noise, a loud “shhh!” to her in return, and behold, Edward Hyde appeared on the kitchen’s threshold, by his own disheveled persona. The girl jumped out from under the table with a squeal, clinging to daddy’s neck and hanging on it. It was their good-old tradition – a tradition that Edward hated but stubbornly endured. So and now, he quietly swore in an unknown language (Irish?), and unclinged Amore from himself.

“What, you scoundrel, already managed to spoil Jekyll’s nerves?” dad tilted his head and grinned, echoing the grin of his daughter.

His child made innocent eyes.

“What do you mean, daddy? I… I really just wanted to play, b-but he didn’t let me...” Amore began to sniff violently. Of course, her dad already knew about the bubble machine – not that he and Jekyll didn’t call up fifty times a day (that, perhaps, was even sweet). With the appearance of Edward’s biological daughter in their life, this number had risen to at least a hundred: caring for a seven-year-old prodigy, managing an entire Society for Arcane Sciences, and even periodically leaving for missions – this task isn’t easy even for Amore’s parents.

Daddy Hyde shook his head in the style of “you know, it’ll never fly” and cast a curious glance at the black device. Amore realized that it was necessary to strike while the iron is hot, and began to whine again.

“Dad Jekyll thinks it’s a bomb. But there is no bomb! There are only bubbles! Can you imagine?! I wonder how they fit there? Dad, daddy… aren’t you interested?”

Edward rubbed his temples irritably (definitely copying this gesture from his husband) and tiredly sighed.

“Jekyll will kill us, but let’s get this thing out of there.”

The girl squealed victoriously and clapped her hands. Daddy Hyde had never disappointed her! And, watching as he rising up on the stool to get the machine (height was a censored topic in their family), she was convinced of this once again.

When the diabolical device was placed on the kitchen table, Amore stared at it in all eyes – if they had had the power to incinerate, from the black box would've remained only embers. Edward assessed and scanned it from all sides, and then pressed the little button, and… it send bubbles. Actually, there was nothing unusual in this – the machine was created to produce them. Only Amore thought that she saw one of the wonders of the world. The girl, with her mouth open, watched the translucent bubbles flying around the kitchen, filled with the last rays of the sun, penetrating through the panoramic window on the far wall. It was… breathtaking.

Daddy Hyde looked around the room and suddenly muttered:

“Maybe we shouldn’t have done it _here._ ” He raised his eyebrows emphatically, and Amore felt uncomfortable.

If all the surfaces in the kitchen would be soaked with soap and foam, Dad Jekyll will kill them for sure.

 

“What’s going on here?”

Henry leaned against the door, folding his arms over his chest and looking inquiringly at his husband. He waved him off with a pink star rod.

“Magic!” Edward giggled.

Amore sat beside him, blinking sleepily, and the projector threw crescents and galaxies on the walls of her room. In the air hung bluish, round soap bubbles, creating an enlarged picture of the outer space.

Jekyll wanted to say something, – argue, take away the bubble machine, chide them for staying awake at this late hour – but looking at his daughter and husband, he could only smile softly.


	10. H for hopscotch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know **nothing** about hopscotches (???) so it was a challenge and i did not pass it well enough.

Amore got out on the fifth square. Not by her own fault. This horrible, totally nightmarish boy named Michael distracted her. And now he smiled smugly at the crowd of children around him. Hopped all ten, damn him.

The girl tightly clasped her teeth, trying not to swear out loud. Nearby was Aunt Katrina with a small Edgar – she wouldn’t tolerate this. Melancholically smiling, the Aunt was sitting on a bench, rocking her son in her arms. Today, Amore was entrusted to her, and Katrina took the nine-year-old beauty to the park, where she met children of her age who were playing an interesting but strange game – hopscotch. The result was known.

The green-eyed blonde stamped her foot but quickly took herself in hands, seeing Michael approaching. The boy broadly, victoriously smiled, and Amore involuntarily thought how good it would be to correct his front “rabbit” teeth a little. Preferably by knocking.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ve been playing for a long time, and you’re new.” He held out his hand for a friendly handshake. Amore hesitated for a moment, but then shook his sweaty hand with her neat little and grinned predatorily.

“Of course. No offense.”

 

“DADDY!”

Edward Hyde jerked, bumping against the overhanging shelf above his head, and cursed loudly. Yesterday, Jekyll _demanded_ his husband to finally hide the Christmas decorations, because “but Hyde, it’s already May, what the hell is Christmas?”. Not that Edward wasn’t in solidarity with him. He just had a month off and he was trivially too lazy. But laziness is the state of which you have to forget forever when a hyperactive prodigy lives and grows in your house.

“Daddy!” Amore burst into the attic, huffing, and puffing. “Daddy!.. boy!.. I need...”

The madman jumped off the stool, rubbed the bump on his head and looked at his daughter with displeasure.

“Slow down,” he snapped. “And where is Katrina?”

Knowing the nature of her father, Amore easily dismissed his malicious tone. So and now she, not reducing the excitement in her voice, continued to chatter:

“Aunt Katrina got me here and left, asked me to say hello to you, by the way. But daddy! There, we’re walking in the park and there was a boy, that is, there were other children there, and they played, and they invited me, and...”

The girl choked with air and stopped to take a breath. For Hyde this time was enough – he rushed to her like a cat, shutting her mouth with his hands.

“Amore!” the blond man rolled his eyes. “Calm down! I still don’t understand a damn thing.”

Ami then embarrassed and nodded vigorously. When dad released her mouth, she looked at him ingratiatingly and asked:

“Teach me to play hopscotches?”

“What?”

 

“Hopscotch, hopscotch, hopscotch...” muttered Edward Hyde, rubbing his neck with his favorite cane. There was a side street before him, there was an asphalt, spreading along this street, and on the asphalt were drawn white squares with numbers inside. What this all meant, the madman didn’t know. And until this day, to know hadn’t been part of his plans.

“Well!”

Amore looked at him with reverence, eagerly dancing around the game’s court. Hyde involuntarily regretted that Jekyll had left, leaving them with daughter alone. He would have been skeptical of all this, he probably would have helped his husband to divert the attention of this daredevil to something else.

 _Or he would’_ ve _gladly thrown you to the slaughter, bibbidi-bobbidi…_ Edward frowned, realizing the ninety-nine percent of this option.

Gathering his strength, he took the first step. Isn’t he the spirit of London at night, the ghost of gas lamps, the whisper of blood and lust in the pitch black? So why he won’t be able to cope with some kind of child’s game?

 

He won’t. After several shamefully missed turns, Hyde leaned against the wall wearily, sliding down to the cold stones. Whichever devil came up with this game, Edward’s legs – those same legs that easily lifted him over the pavement, raising him to the roofs and spiers – didn’t work. They tangled, jumped out of the court, and in general behaved disgustingly. Amore, lips pursed, was looking at her father with an expression of mild worry and compassion. Swaying on her heels, the little girl laid her hand calmly on his shoulder and asked sweetly:

“Maybe forget it? Just kill this Michael and all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s already 10 chapters, wheeeeeeeeee, and it’s **only the beggining** , oh my gods.


	11. 500%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was **hella** fun to translate

“If I sit on this _thing_ , I’m 500% sure that I will die. And you will die. We’ll both die.”

Of all the Hyde’s ventures, this one was the most stupid. Not that Henry didn’t trust Edward in his hobbies… actually, wait, he didn’t trust Edward in his hobbies.

“Come on,” the blond slapped the side of the iron beast with his palm, and abruptly hissed in pain. “I mean, what can be scary? _I_ will drive.”

Jekyll pursed his lips, watching the manic grin blooming on the lips of the London spirit.

“… Should I start listing?...”

Hyde rolled his eyes (it wasn’t visible under the black glasses) and hid his hands in the pockets of his biker jacket, swaying on his heels.

“ _Jekyll_! Don’t be a baby! I, by the way, wanted to ride my girlfriend on my motorcycle like the ideal boyfriend, because girls  _squeak_ from motorcycles.”

It was the turn of a good doctor to roll his eyes and harrumphed.

“Apparently, I’m some kind of a wrong _girl_.”

“You’re a spoiled girl, that’s what I like about you,” the green-eyed purred quietly.

Henry narrowed his eyes and bowed his head, trying to hide the blush that suddenly appeared on his cheeks – weak, but still terribly noticeable on the pale skin.

“In any case, your attempt to surprise me with your transport has failed, so,” Edward shrugged, “let me surprise you with mine.”

The brunet stared at the floor for several minutes before sighed with defeat.

“Fine.”

 

“Hyde...”

“Ye-es?~”

“Hyde.”

“What, sunshine?”

“Hyde!”

“Oh, what?!”

Jekyll clung to his lover-idiot, desperately trying not to fly off from the seat. All of his more or less intelligible thoughts were carried away with frantic gusts of wind, and in order to generate the answer, he had to concentrate very well.

“Are you sure you can drive this?” shouted Henry.

Under the bike wheels again formed a pit, and Jekyll squealed, clinging to Hyde even more tightly. Edward hissed, but quickly regained his composure.

“Of course.”

“Then can you tell me why...” the further doctor’s indignation drowned in the noise of cars passing by.

Hyde made a sour face and slowed down, and soon stopped at the roadside altogether. Half-alive Jekyll rolled off from the motorcycle, crouched on the saving asphalt and rubbed his ears with hands.

“Then can you tell me why we didn’t even wear helmets?”

“What for?” the madman innocently clapped his eyes. “Do we really need them?”

“Imagine yourself,” Henry muttered. Trembling legs lifted him from the ground, but he had to cling to the black bike so that it creaked pitifully.

“Hey, hey, don’t break my car,” Edward pouted, slipping from the seat. “We still have to go back on it.”

“No back,” Jekyll snorted, with his tongue tied. “I refuse. It’s not romantic. And not fun. And I want to go home,” the doctor, after finishing his heartbreaking tirade, threw a dull look at Edward, which was bound to be menacing. But apparently something did not work out – Hyde just rolled his eyes again, correcting his slipped glasses.

“Well, as always… You absolutely cannot have fun.”

“Have fun?!” Henry switched to ultrasound for a split second, making a dumbfounded lover to rebound. “Ah, I’ll show you what fun is...”

Having typed a handful of roadside pebbles in a fist, the brunet properly aimed and launched the first in a flight…

 

“Jekyll!”

“Jekyll, what are you...”

“What are you doing?!”

“Leave me alone...”

“Get off me!”

“Jekyll!”

“Jekyll...”

“Okay, go on.”


	12. Love me, kiss me, hug me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/a1/03/09/a10309a8a22728cb273e1c34b5ac2405--otp-moments-otp-headcanons.jpg)  
>  let’s just all appreciate that I have a heels kink, ok?

“Jekyll, I’m bored.”

Hyde was circling the lab like a hawk. Very impudent, weary from boredom hawk. The good doctor sighed, ran his fingertips over his face, and leaned back in his chair.

“You know I’m busy. This is a very important research of which Maijabi asked me...”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before.” Hyde waved his hand and jealously harrumphed. “But you’re sticking here days and nights, and I’ve been given a few days off, by the way...”

Making an apocalyptically sad face, Edward brushed an invisible tear away and mimicked:

“The research Maijabi asked me...”

“Oh, fine, what do you suggest?” Henry locked his hands, starting to give up his previously firm position.

The madman instantly brightened up, gleaming in the semi-darkness of the laboratory with green eyes.

“Instead of research, we could do… more interesting things.” He began to purr, but Jekyll shook his head obstinately.

“If you’re offering sex on my lab table, thank you, I still remember the last time.” The doctor eloquently stared at his assistant.

Hyde snarled and clasped his hands on his chest, defending himself.

“But it was fun!”

“Your merriment won’t compensate me and my table for damage,” Henry barked. When it came to spoiling his chemical supplies, from a pliant and sweet gentleman he became harsh and nervous oddball. Sometimes Edward caught himself on the thought that perhaps he even jealous of his lover to all these flasks and reagents. Thank Heaven, with the advent of new responsibilities, Jekyll looked into his abode rarely.

“But I’m _bored_ ,” whined the spirit of London’s night. “You’ve been ignoring me for the third day. The third!”

The doctor scowlingly flipped through the drawings on the table with his eyes. That, of course, was true – a new research had absolutely absorbed all his thoughts, and most of the time he didn’t notice not just Edward – he stopped see the world around. Occasionally getting into various stupid situations because of this – stumbling on every step, bumping into the revolving doors and banal skipping of conversations being built around him - Henry still couldn’t switch his thoughts to something else. Sighing, he turned to his lover.

“Give me one more day. Tomorrow I will finish it, I promise. And I’ll show you… if you want.”

Hyde bared his teeth.

“I don’t want some stupid pieces of paper and potions, I want you.”

And before Jekyll could say anything at all, Edward suddenly whirled around, and the doctor noticed that he was… wearing high model heels… again…

“C’mon! You know you love me,” the blond snorted mockingly, playfully clinking on the floor. “You wanna kiss me! You wanna hug me!”

This nervous Henry couldn’t stand. Grabbing the candy from the table (and from where it came, although with such a mess…), he resolutely moved to Hyde, who had expectantly stopped, staring at Jekyll with all eyes. The latter, in his turn, leaned toward the madman, burning his lips with hot breath. Edward was the first to lean forward, but Henry pulled away, unfolded the candy (by the way, the peppermint one) and threw it into his mouth.

The disappointed squeak of the spirit of London at night was one of the finest sounds that he had heard in his entire life.


	13. Giggles and pomegranates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in 2012 i became a shipper - [this was](https://archiveofourown.org/works/477310) one of the first fanfictions i’ve read and somehow it determined my future destiny.

_Jekyll is cheating on me with pomegranates._

This thought like a tiny bird was pulsing in Hyde’s head since the previous evening. As time was passing, from the bird it turned into something like a huge, well-fed flying whale. Not that Edward had never suspected such a wonderful coincidence of circumstances before. But yesterday, he suddenly realized this with all the distinctness.

Their entire house was littered with pomegranates. In the kitchen wasn’t a single free basket, drawer or at least a shelf. The culprit of this blood-red flood – the above-mentioned Dr. Jekyll – twisted his nose in response to questions about his possible dementia, and explained everything by the annual delivery of an excellent lot from one of the London’s sellers.

And Hyde wouldn’t even have anything to complain about – he didn’t go into the kitchen very often and almost never noticed this chaos. But only now this fruit had completely and unconditionally enslaved the heart of a young doctor, concurrently lover of Mr. Hyde. No, their house did not resemble the battlefield, with red spots on the wallpapers and floor; and no, the tiny sharp pips did not cover all the horizontal surfaces with its amazing whiteness. It was only that whenever Hyde was seeing Jekyll – reading a book, testing new potions in the laboratory, and simply walking through the corridors of the Society for Arcane Sciences – he necessarily held a bright red berry in his hand. And ate seeds with a completely dreamy look.

To say that Edward was jealous is to describe only a small fraction of all those feelings that was raging in his restless soul. He was furious. He, recently returned from the next world’s end expedition, had to endure the almost complete absence of the good doctor in their house. Jekyll was swamped with work, the bed (and consequently all entertainment on this piece of furniture) was betrayed and forgotten, and the sofa in the living room served only for an hour and a half of forgetfulness, after which it was pitifully squeaking. But most importantly: wherever Henry went, he always took with him – no, not Edward – this damned pomegranate. Pomegranate!

This couldn’t go on. Mr. Hyde’s nerves were at the limit of their possibilities, and he himself was at the limit of his patience. So once, on a quiet winter evening before Christmas, the spirit of London at night brought out the damned berries from home – all to the one. Perhaps they were begging imploringly in a black, polyethylene bag – this, unfortunately, now can't be discovered by anyone. And only the cold wind and starry night witnessed this terrible crime.

 

“Hyde, are you… you...”

Jekyll burst out laughing, covering his mouth with his hand, and grabbed the nearby table in search of support.

In front of him stood Edward Hyde – very angry and a hell of cute. He was soiled in pomegranate juice, his hair sticking out in all directions, like needles from a hedgehog, and his lips were clenched in a thin line.

“What’s so funny?” Edward barked. “It’s not my fault that these fucking pomegranates are so… juicy. And they took you away from me, actually!”

Henry finely shook with laughter, grabbing his stomach and sliding to the floor.

“And you, you decided to take revenge on them?” The doctor bleated through the spasm, trying to wipe the tears that came out with trembling fingers.

The green-eyes madman snuffled fiercely and pouted his lips. The operation to get rid of pomegranates was… not as successful as it intended. No, the orphanage’s children were undoubtedly pleased with such a generous gift. But then one of these little hooligans decided that Edward Hyde should play with them in a maniac and victims, and “what a maniac then, without a good pint of blood.”

Henry finally coped with his laugh and rose, approaching Edward and pulling him closer. The “maniac” stared at his lover in surprise and wary, but he only disgustingly sweetly smiled and leaned forward, kissing him.

 

Hyde tastes like pomegranate – and this is the sweetest fruit that Jekyll has happened to try.


	14. Love is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know why Zosi is she, don't ask me.  
> 

Zosi's little brave heart is no longer beating – but she knows what love is better than many living. She lies on the lap of the new owner, gratefully burying her deadly cold nose in his hand, and knows that she won't be betrayed or thrown out anymore. Now she's needed again, now she's again important. The new owner scratches the Grim behind her ear, and Zosi knows – that's what love is.

 

When she for the first time sees how her master writhes on the floor in convulsions, how his body shortens and his hair lengthens – she becomes frightened and curious at the same time. The master's turning into another person, and the grim slowly approaches him and sniffs from every side. This new man suddenly pushes her off sharply and sits on the floor, puffing. Peers better at the dark figure of the church Grim, scratches his chin and… smiles. Lets her nearer and Zosi knows – that's what love is.

 

The kitchen smells like pastries and freshly brewed coffee, Zosi doesn't need to eat anymore, but she likes it when the lower owner brings her dead mice. Watching with interest how this very owner busily draws on a scrap of paper and quietly chuckles, the Grim covers her eyes. When she wakes up, the taller owner reads the message from the lower and perplexedly looks at coffee and scones with jam. His hands are shaking and his cheeks are blushing, and Zosi is a little uncertain, but probably that's also what love is.

 

Now she lives in a new house – it's spacious, bright and very interesting. Master Jekyll and master Hyde were able to separate themselves, and Zosi is very happy for them. She barks loudly when hears the doorbell, and rushes down the stairs. Water drops from the entered master Jekyll, he squelches his nose and pulls off his soaked cloak. Master Hyde giggles into a fist, then draws the second master closer and kisses him sonically. In the end, they're both wet, but Zosi knows – that's what love is.

 

When master Hyde leaves, master Jekyll cannot fall asleep. He spends sleepless nights in his office, the laboratory, and sometimes even by the fireplace in the living room – but doesn't approach the bedroom. The church Grim makes him company as much as she can, running after him like a tail and licking his cheeks when can reach his face. Master smiles and giggles softly. When master Hyde returns, he pulls the second master into the bedroom almost from the threshold, covers him with a blanket and wraps his arms around him, protecting from the whole world. Master Jekyll falls asleep without a minute, and Zosi knows – that's what love is.

 

After Christmas, the air in the house rings with a holiday and white flakes of snow whirl on the street. The Grim's lying under the sparkling light bulbs on the fir tree and breathing in the smell of the needles with her rotten lungs. The masters are lying on the floor next to her and fooling like puppies. Then, this game tires master Hyde – he presses master Jekyll and passionately kisses on the lips, going down to the neck, chest and… Zosi is absolutely certain that this is love.

 

A new member appears in their small family. This girl is very similar to the master Edward – Zosi will never fail to admire the resemblance. She has immediately liked the girl, and the girl has immediately liked her. Now they walk along the snow-covered park together, together watch the large box with brightly colored pictures, and together try to reach for the cookies. When a frightened mother of some boy screams at the Grim, the girl intercedes for her pet, and Zosi knows – that's what love is.

 

When the masters quarrel once again, there's a lot of glass, breaking into the house. Amore escapes to her room, covering her ears with her hands – the church Grim follows her step by step. The girl and the dead dog lock themselves and look each other in the eyes for a long time, and then Amore cannot hold on and starts to sob softly. The Grim moves closer and licks the tears from her cheeks as the girl's hugging her darling. They both know that the masters and parents will be reconciled maximum by tomorrow evening, but for a little girl and a small dog, there's too much time until tomorrow. Amore rubs her hair and ribs, and Zosi knows – that's what love is.

 

The center of the city is surprisingly noisy, but this is London and here people never sleep. Zosi runs on a leash, led by her young owner. Master Edward and master Henry are holding hands and keeping silence, watching their daughter and the church Grim. Amore sprinkles the autumn leaves around her, while Zosi tries to catch them in the air, barking. When the master Edward calls them home, the young owner pouts discontentedly but soon moves next to her father – _as_ soon as he gets the big cockerel lollipop behind his bosom. Master Henry laughs softly and gently kisses the second master on the corner of his lips before daughter drags her parents to the house. Grim watches this scene, sticking out the tip of her tongue and breaks away as the owners' voices call her to the door. Zosi has long been dead, but she knows what love is better than many living – 'cause everyday sees its examples before her.


	15. Old odd movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now we're playing the game "guess the movie". they're all quite famous because i have no imagination.  
> \+ the last one is a **big** reference to one of my AUs.

And Sunday evenings – for movies' watching. This little tradition has appeared relatively recently, but easy and firmly established in their house. Usually, everything happens like this – Edward arranges the realm of pillows and blankets on the couch and brings croissants bought in the cafe opposite; Henry lights the fireplace in the living room and turns on the TV itself; Zosi scuffs back and forth under his feet and actively bothers all the other participants of the process. The movies are different and vary from year to genre and rating. Jekyll is old-fashioned – he buys a small locker and stuffs it with cassettes; Hyde prefers to use cute pink flash drives with information recorded on them.

And every such session – is a strange and crazy story of two strange and crazy people.

 

“It… should've been tragic.”

Jekyll has a stupor written on his face. Not that he didn't like it. It was just quite strange. His mad green-eyed lover has stretched out on the couch, his head on the doctor's lap and his nose desperately snuffles the above-mentioned in the stomach. Henry casts at him a condemning glance but doesn't dare to move – only turns off the screen by quit clicking of the remote. Not so often Edward so trustingly clings to him, just like a kitten in need of affection.

No, the picture of the collision of the ship with the glacier did not touch Jekyll's heart, but it has definitely benefited.

 

Hyde suddenly becomes strangely distracted. He drives his eyes through the letters not noticing the text; he inhales the smell of flowers without touching the buds; he gets his morning kisses with a detached expression on his face. Jekyll is surprised – he doesn't know what could so suddenly go wrong. Everything was as usual – trivial and simple. The paintings didn't come to life, the photos are still silent and the scientists in the Society didn't begin to twist with each other sudden love affairs.

When Edward says “let's go to Paris. I want to dance there with you all night, like before,” Henry laughs and hugs his husband tightly. Of course, they will go the homeland of the tale of two dreamers.

 

Amore knows that today parents are watching something adult, furthermore at the instigation of Uncle Lanyon. She dances on the spot and giggles into the fist, sneaking up to the living room. With one noiseless half-jump, the girl is at the entrance, opening the door. The room is quiet, on TV everything is grey, and her dads are peacefully sleeping on the couch, embracing each other. Zosi lifts her head from her place by the fireplace, sparkles in the semi-darkness with her eyes and affably sticks out the tip of the tongue.

Amore sighs with tiredness and disappointing – hope is not worth laying on Uncle Lanyon, with his strange tastes.

 

Edward grumbles and balks, but Kate says that this comedy is mandatory for viewing during the Christmas period. She gives him three cassettes, saying that only the first three films are truly worthwhile. Hyde drags the cassettes into the house, throws to his husband's feet and then discontentedly rises to his office. He has a lot of work this winter, in a couple of days it'll be Christmas – all these fiddlesticks cause them with Jekyll to quarrel. When evening comes, the madman hears quiet sounds from the living room and intriguingly gets down. Amore and Henry smile and laugh – Edward stumbles for a while, then carefully joins them.

The next morning, however, clever traps are set up throughout the house and a small seven-year-old cutie rubs her hands contentedly.

 

“Perhaps in some of the alternate universes we've met just like that,” Hyde purrs.

“Of course.” Jekyll nods with all the seriousness and dramatically echoes: “I flew to propose Hastie, but fate had played against my plans and to my great regret I had to spend the night in a hotel of some idi… Ouch!”

“Spend the night in the distinctive hotel of a terribly sexy Irishman!” Edward lifts his chin and folds his arms over his chest.

“A terribly poor Irishman,” observes Henry, for which receives the second poke under the ribs.

_After five minutes of fuss and pillows battle._

“You know, I almost see this story in front of my eyes,” Hyde solemnly raises his fingers, “you're some kind of drunkard Brit who's trying not to die from the age-old depression. Maybe you even work as someone… useless, I don't know, like a programmer or a guide ( _Henry kicks on “useless”_ ). And I'm all such a chic and beautiful Irish guy, shaking you out of your boring world and” Edward makes a wide, but incomprehensible gesture with his hands: “We're going to drink, kiss and have fun. The end!”

“A few corrections here and there, and you can write a book,” Jekyll smiles and hugs his disheveled husband tightly: “By the way, I'm not all useless. Prove?”


	16. My brand of heroin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is movies' quotes and here we're playing the game "guess the movie" again.

“Ah, love. A dreadful bond,” Henry Jekyll sighed doomedly, watching as Mr. Hyde was hanging garlands of red-and-green paper hearts all over the house. Valentine's Day is just around the corner, right?

 

“You do not deserve this,” Edward grumbled in displeasure, folding his arms over his chest. “You do not deserve to stick in this dusty office for hours only because some idiot wants to play a scientist and you have to prove that he has nothing to do with the Society.”

Jekyll rubbed his temples and looked into Hyde's eyes wearily.

“It's me who let it happen. What do I deserve, in your opinion?”

The madman smiled and this strange smile was almost loving.

“You deserve… You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

 

Henry was angry – he had lost the argument and Hyde dragged him into an amusement park. Into a terribly noisy and full of a multifaceted crowd amusement park. The Ferris wheel was temptingly towering far away, but Jekyll's sour face made the green-eyed madman talk all the balderdash:

“Would you buy us sweet cotton wool?”

“No.”

Hyde sighed. He needed to stir this idiot until the idiot would finally lose his spirit.

“Would you participate in karaoke? You sing beautifully.”

“No.”

Mentally crossing all the fingers on hands and feet, Edward tried the last idea:

“Would you please, with cherries on top, marry me?”

“Yes.”

Mister Hyde choked on air.

“… what?”

 

There was a piece of silver paper under the music box. Dr. Jekyll carefully read its content, and then realized that, about five minutes, he stood here with a completely stupid, sincere and blessedly happy smile. His husband's handwriting he wouldn't mistake with anything.

“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.”


	17. Say something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, i found time to update it.  
> _  
> A Great Big World & Christina Aguilera - Say Something;  
> i probably was in extra hurt/comfort mood, don't ask.

When you left alone with music – the memories are starting to take a shape from the air. Semi-forgotten images, drawing space with silver ribbons. They take a form of the first spring kisses; bitter taste of morning coffee on lips; barely audible whisper, covered with velvet fabrics of the opera house. And then they turn into a scarlet smears of passion; muffled moans at sunset; tenderness of the hands in the hair.

They spin and whirl, merging into a crazy tango flowing into a smooth waltz (one of the memories differs from the main rhythm – it's a cheerful Irish dance). And when the last chords are heard – they fall to the ground, ringing, and scattering like stars. Scorchingly hot.

 

“You're still afraid that I'll leave you. Silly.”

Mister Hyde lightly kissed Henry on the top of his head, and he jerked, sniffing and trying to hide his face in hands. He had failed – Edward carefully withdrew his fingers and stretched forward, kissing off tears.

“Silly,” the madman repeated, chuckling and dragging husband toward him so that Jekyll's knees now rested on his chest.

The doctor looked away. How to explain why he'd been feeling unbearably ill all day, and in the evening, having returned home and met Hyde's questioning glance, just burst into tears? Such stupid, childish. Leaving everything without explanation.

“I will never abandon you.”

Edward removed the strand of hair from Henry's brow and reached for a new kiss – still light and weightless, but now on the lips. Jekyll sobbed and finally looked at the green-eyed spirit. He was smiling – so sincerely and warmly that the doctor almost started to cry again. A quiet “shhhh” and a finger on trembling lips stopped him.

“I'll follow you everywhere.”

Another kiss on the cheekbone. Hyde giggled softly and hugged husband's shoulders. Henry felt terribly weak, and that's exactly what he was like, now. But strong they were always only together.

“You're everything to me. I'm always with you, my love. And if you need to cry, I'll be there.”

Jekyll finally thawed. He clung to Edward as desperately as people doomed to death clung at their last days. He whimpered and cried and muttered something unintelligible, and in response felt soothingly warm hands on his back and an endless series of kisses.

 

“I still can't understand how you could make me play it.”

Mr. Hyde looked at the piano with a slight dislike, but mostly – with a humble humility. Jekyll giggled and lovingly touched the keys with his fingertips.

“Come on, you played beautifully! The guests were delighted! You should have shown them your face after the performance,” he muttered, bending towards his husband.

Edward narrowed his eyes, leaning back in the chair. The approval of some outsiders meant to him incredibly little. They're lucky he agreed to help Jekyll entertain them at all. Although they hardly even find out the face and the name of their mysterious pianist.

“This music was for you. For no one else,” the madman breathed into the lips of dangerously close Henry.

The latter looked up in confusion for a second – this moment was enough to lure him into a long and passionate kiss.


	18. T.G.I.F.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [because of this post](http://glass-scientists.tumblr.com/post/132972709830/tgs-has-ruined-me-and-i-thank-you-for-it-now)   
>  **and they were roommates**

Henry opened his eyes and understood that he doesn't understand anything. His throat had turned into a desert much bigger than Sahara; his head had been definitely beaten with something heavy (perhaps, a frying pan); his vision dissipated and the ceiling overhead was transforming into multicolored spots. Or it was simply multicolored. One out of two.

Without a few minutes student, he tried to sit down and almost immediately regretted it. The lower parts of the body were burning with fire, and the head began to spin so sharply, Henry nearly fell back again. On the mattress. On the bed. But he resisted.

Clutching to the above-mentioned mattress with his hands, the guy lifted himself and neatly settled. Then he looked around the room with a long, inspective glance. Internally groaned. Then groaned aloud.

“Edward Hyde!!!”

 

“Hey, you're not gonna skip the party of the year, ain't you?” the roommate pertly fell onto Henry's bed, dangling his legs in the air.

The brunet sighed heavily and pulled away a strand of hair behind his ear – a gesture sharply intrigued an impudent blond.

“I've told you and I repeat it again – I'm not interested in-”

“Yes, yes, 'I'm not interested in parties cause I'm such a nerd',” Edward mimicked, sticking out the tip of his tongue. With this, he intrigued already Henry, and noticing this, vulgarly licked his lips.

Henry turned away, cursing himself and the capillaries on his reddened cheeks. Behind, there was a fuss, and the roommate jumped to the floor, clinking the hills on his boots, coming up to the guy from behind.

“Hey… If you'll go with me to this party, I...” was heard somewhere over his ear. Henry jerked and swallowed but faithfully continued to stand on. “I, for example, will help you to hook up with this girl… How is she, Elena, Ellie, Lizzie?”

“Emma,” the brunet gasped in displeasure, turning to his dormitory roommate. In the light, his big emerald eyes brightly glittered, and Henry had to collect all of his manliness in order not to look away… or not to succumb to one of his strange dreams, and not to move a little closer.

Edward shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. If you had slept with half of the girls at the university, it's hard to remember any of their names.

“Well yeah, Emma. So?.. You've been hanging on her for two hundred years already, the Earth had time to rotate around the sun a thousand times, and you're still afraid to approach the blondie.”

Henry sighed heavily once more. He really liked Emma. She had soft hands, plump lips, and amazing blue eyes. The problem was that even if he'd been taking an interest in her in this-very-sense, recently this interest had faded. Not informing the roommate, of course. Edward Hyde was generally surprisingly blind to everything that concerned Jekyll, but at the same time somehow knew him almost as a brother. At first, it was annoying. And when began to please – the young medic even got scared.

“Only for half an hour...” Henry surrendered, suddenly even to himself. The sparkling from this words roommates eyes abruptly appeared to him terribly attractive.

 

But for “half an hour” he, of course, hoped in vain, and in the depths of his soul frankly laughed from himself at all. As soon as they entered the house of Hastie Lanyon – this abode of evil, vice, debauchery, and terrible music – Henry was dragged into a multicolored whirlpool of people of all colors, half-naked and still dressed. Edward poured into him two glasses of martini, then two more glasses of champagne and all ended with something strangely similar to vodka with rum. When the medic's tongue began to mumble and his legs tried to dance, the green-eyed blond-devil-chemist laughed loudly and dragged him to the backyard. And there, saying “I promised your parents you sober” he threw him straight into the pool. Henry couldn't swim but quickly learned how to.

After he – wet, angry and still a little drunk – was wrapped in ten towels, and Jekyll even managed to wonder where his roommate had gotten them here at all. And when Edward dived into an offsuit crowd, leaving his friend to sniff his nose, leaning against the far wall; a vague, menacing figure loomed before the brunet. In the form of the host of this party. Absolutely drunk, but nevertheless horribly nimble on his feet. Before Henry could say anything, he was already hauled into a dark pantry. The student was only able to make a squeak of protest before a sweaty palm dropped on his lips, and his back was pressed against the wall. The potential rapist had even said something to him. Not that his words meant anything – the next moment, the pressure from medic's body was gone, and Lanyon flew right to the floor. Edward Hyde – Henry's inflamed brain found him delightfully beautiful in such a state – attacked Hastie with a malicious cat's hiss, and then there was only the crush of nasal cartilage and a lot of blood in half with curses.

Chemist carefully – caringly! - took Jekyll by the hand, closed with him in some little room and tiredly sat down on the floor, puffing. And then, probably, practically weathered before alcohol enslaved Henry's conscience again: otherwise, nothing could've explained that he bent over his savior and gratefully kissed the man on the lips, cutting off the surprised “what are you doing?”. Then everything went in the form of spots and fragments…

 

… but by the edge of the mind (and also by the butt), Henry knew what had happened next. And this realization made him blush, painfully roll his eyes and screamed down the whole house:

“Damn Fridays!”


	19. Layla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my masterpiece, my favorite drabble of all BP.  
> you probably know this song ~~i mean you must~~

Jekyll knew this was a bad idea. He knew this from the very beginning when the official reception had come to an end, and in the Society's ballroom were left only Lanyon and the Lodgers. He knew this and then, when Mr. Hyde, coming out of nowhere, had dashingly suggested to continue the night in a more pleasant and fun place. And certainly he knew it now – sitting in an expensive nightclub, clumsily squeezing into an uncomfortable chair, and in general trying to merge with this piece of furniture in every possible way. The rest of the scientists dispersed who knows where to amuse themselves. In other circumstances, Jekyll would never allow them to spoil the reputation of the Society for Arcane Sciences in such an arrogant and tasteless way, but today was a holiday, and also he was just fed up with this Hyde's “you really don't know how to have fun”. So he resigned himself and allowed the latter to rule the ball.

Henry himself was uncomfortable here – and that's if putting it mildly. The neon light terribly annoyed him, the alcohol behind the bar counter was disgusting, and every passing by dolled up witch – or witcher – was trying to start with him a conversation full of meaningless, vulgar flirting. Soon Jekyll began to feel sick of all this and hid himself in the only untouched section of the club – a dusty karaoke scene, too gloomy to be seen by visitors.

He wondered where Lanyon got to. It seemed that when they had come here, they'd been staying together – but now he was blown off like with a wind. Henry suspected that his ever-young and ever-drunk friend now was _really_ drunk. And apparently hard.

“Jeky!”

The doctor even jumped – on his shoulder lay down someone's hand, and right before him loomed familiar sassy eyes.

“Aren't you supposed to get drunk in Archer's company?” Henry grumbled in displeasure.

Hyde waved his hand.

“Archer doesn't take a single step away from Virginia, 'cause he's afraid someone will steal her from him.” A broad grin appeared on his face. “And you, as I see, haven't been stolen yet~”

“And not by your merit,” Jekyll harrumphed, pulling back from the madman and glancing over the crazy crowd.

Behind something suddenly creaked and rustled, and turning around, the doctor noticed his assistant, who was agilely scrambling to the karaoke's stage, touching the microphone with some admiration. The blond whistled loudly – and next to him promptly appeared one of the guys pouring drinks at the counter.

“Does it even work?” Edward almost squeamishly pointed his finger at the microphone, and his new-flash friend nodded actively.

“Yep! I'm even surprised that so few people use this thing. Well, what can you do, karaoke's becoming old,” the barman rattled, unraveling the cords from the microphone and speakers.

Then he quickly pressed a button on the side – and the scene lit up with thousands of yellow-red light bulbs. Hyde jumped and clapped his hands, smiling smugly.

“Great!” the madman took a microphone in his palm and chuckled. “Let's get this party started!”

 

Jekyll was sitting in the front ranks of some kind of concert – and, frankly speaking, was surprised. Firstly, Hyde had aroused a great interest of the whole mad club crowd, abandoned their business and gathered around the stage, hooting and clapping. Secondly, he, apparently, had been singing already the tenth song, interrupting only to drink another glass of… something. It looked like water, but here Jekyll wasn't sure of anything. Thirdly, Henry had finally noticed Lanyon. His friend embraced Miss Lavender by the waist and sadly poured out his soul to her, as she was making round eyes and nodding at all his phrases. If Jekyll had known Hastie worse, he would've thought that he's flirting with a beautiful lady – but he was well aware that when Lanyon was very drunk, he just needed a strong shoulder to cry.

Watching this mise-en-scene, Henry didn't notice that the crowd behind him subsided. And when he glanced at the karaoke – realized that Edward Hyde was grinning devilishly, stomping his foot to the beat of an inaudible song.

“I hope I've inflamed you enough, ladies and gentlemen,” Hyde said hoarsely into the microphone. “Because my next song will be, alas, the last one.”

The crowd began to gasp and grumbled unhappily, but quickly fell silent, intrigued by Mr. Hyde's raised forefinger.

“And this song will be dedicated to one very… to my better half.” Edward looked around at the anticipating listeners, for a split second stopped at Henry and eagerly picked up the microphone.

The first chord started playing, as Jekyll realized he had heard it all somewhere long-long ago.

 

Lanyon finally returned to Henry and drunkenly hugged his shoulders. Jekyll didn't care much, he was desperately trying to hide an idiotic smile and alternately licked his dry lips.

So when the last notes had sounded, and the tired singer descended from the stage and dived into the darkness, Henry slipped out of Hastie's embrace and rushed after the insidious night spirit. He didn't have to be pursued for long – the next second, Jekyll had already pushed him into the toilets, slamming the door behind them. Hyde burst out laughing.

“Did you like… the song?” he smiled absolutely charmingly and insanely at the same time.

Henry didn't say anything – only shoved Edward to the sinks and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing to him.

“So what, let's make the best of the situation before I finally go insane?” Hyde purred somewhere in his ear, making shivers to run along the back of the good doctor.

Then, moving away from the breathtaking kiss, Jekyll couldn't help his grin and quite an impertinent tone:

“How's the song says… you've got me on my knees, right? And something about someone begging… may I ease your worried mind, _kitten_?”


	20. And a Bottle of Rum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i haven't updated it in months  
> 2\. how does it have so many hits, that's just fucking insane (thank you???)

“We will NOT wear it, Hyde!”

Jekyll crossed his arms over his chest, biting his lip either of bursting laughter or an indignant grunt. His husband had been having a reputation of an idiot for a long time and firmly, but today he outdid himself. And specifically – Edward Hyde was wearing pants, a blue sash, and a long brown coat; coins and beads were woven into his hair, and on his belt fit plastic, and for some reason pinkish, sword.

Yes, for the upcoming Halloween he decided to dress up as a pirate.

“C'mon, you're ruining my whole vibe!” Edward snorted, shaking his tinkling hair. “This isn't one of your tedious meetings 'who're over 30', which you somehow call parties!”

He twisted on the heels of his rakish boots and threw a red belt into his husband. Henry was very much used to it, though.

“Oh well, you can go even au naturel – n-no, stop smiling, moron – but I won't wear it.” The strip of cloth in his hands plaintively hung down on those words, and Jekyll measured it with an appraising glance. To Hyde's credit, still, he'd chosen clothes not in some cheap second-hand, but in a pretty decent Halloween costume store, and well… the costumes were good. Even very good.

All this did not cancel the fact that Henry Jekyll was not going to wear them at all.

“Uhhhh.” Edward rolled his eyes. “Then, at least, put on a mermaid one, I bought this too.”

And before Henry could even insert a word, rags of white-turquoise color flew over him. Buried under such a sudden onslaught of clothes, he yelped and waved his hands. Soon, a ray of light appeared ahead, and a second later it turned into the face of Hyde, looming before his nose. As soon as the hybrid of the mermaid and amphibian costume flew to the ground, the face of Hyde didn't fail to peck Henry. While his husband was at a safe distance, Jekyll could not fear for his reputation – but from a close angle to restrain the cackle was already more difficult.

“Don't bite your lip, bastard,” Edward whispered to his ear almost pleadingly, before wrapping his arms around Henry's neck and throwing him down onto the pink sofa.

Well, ok. At least now Henry could laugh aloud. Only hell, with all these trinkets his husband is actually heavy.

“I repeat,” Jekyll breathed, “geez, I'm not going to dress this up. And I won't be a mermaid either!”

The plastic sword rested against his hip, and Henry chewed his lip, hiding his eyes.

“But you wanted to be a pirate in childhood,” whined Hyde, wallowing on top of him and not planning to get up. “I'm giving you such a chance to be my boatswain! Right hand of captain, you can say. And you're spending it on a-”

“Common sense,” Jekyll croaked, uncomfortably shifting under the small but tangible body of his husband.

Small but tangible body of his husband sensed the shifting and rose slightly, staring at Henry with uncomprehending eyes. Then a realization of the universal scale flashed in those eyes, and… it wasn't promising anything good to Henry.

“Oh, fuck off!” he mumbled, miserably covering his face with hands.

Edward snorted and leaned forward, his stupid sword moved down Jekyll's thigh, and that's-all-for-sure-the-end, somebody save the good doctor.

“You know, I've never thought that-”

“Whatever you thought, I don't want to hear it,” Henry squeaked. “Stop it!”

“But you like me so much or-”

“Edward Hyde, get off me or I swear to God, I-I-I won't buy you your favorite cookies for a week!”

Edward Hyde did not take even three seconds to slide to the side.

“Now that's a threat!”

After Henry felt relatively out of the state of “red to death, and perhaps worse”, he was able to unstick his hands away from his face and stare at the ceiling. And then he laughed again.

“No, seriously,” his 'captain' snorted gaily, rising on the elbow. “Have you seen your cool eyepatch? You'll be just like…” he pondered, biting his fingernail, and drawled: “… like Thor?”

Hysterical fun after these words in Jekyll somehow diminished.

“Dear Lord, please remind me why have I married this man.” Hyde opened his mouth to answer this doubtlessly rhetorical question, but Henry managed to interrupt him: “No, do not remind me. Do not hurt my inconversant soul. Do not desecrate the pure temple of my min-”

Pink – in the tone of the sofa – pillow shut his mouth. Hyde's hoarse, “now it really hurts”, muttering was interrupted by the coughing of his husband. Choking husband. Who, after the release of the pink captivity, issued only one sentence:

“Do you understand that they'll look upon us like on two idiots?”

“Nonsense!” hurried to assure him Hyde.

 

“Two idiots,” Hastie Lanyon shook his head, sipping the martini and tapping fake fangs on the glass. In the air above him hung a pirate stylized airship, at the deck of which scurried two small figures.

A vigorous corsair soundtrack filled the hearts of demons, zombies, and witches this noteworthy Halloween night.


	21. Not In That Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam Smith - Not In That Way  
> _  
> experimenting with styles means writing shitty POVs ok  
>  ~~yes i hate it too~~

Life sometimes takes very unexpected turns – I think, making coffee for two. Through the wide kitchen window fall slanting rays of the sun, decorating the floor. Motes of dust are dancing in the air, the door's ajar, and Zosi has settled herself at the foot of the table, throwing greedy glances at breakfast. Some disheveled green-eyed subject is still lying around in bed, and I smile softly, remembering yesterday evening. One of the many almighty strange evenings in my life – strange since the appearance of a certain Edward Hyde.

 

I know for sure that I'd do anything for him, but sometimes I just want to smother Hyde with my own hands. He looks at me with hatred and I suddenly recall our old-old conversation. Then we were just fools in love with each other, over whom quietly chuckled Rachel. That didn't stop Edward from saying: “if I'd want to, I would break you… but I love you”. And I, I didn't even think of being scared. Perhaps because always knew it. Perhaps because resigned myself with the blood on his hands long ago, back when we co-existed in one body. Perhaps because couldn't live without him a single day. As well as now.

Only now I'm already scared. I want to scream. Or burst into tears. Or just have a good drink, which I do, turning away from husband and taking a sip right from the bottle. The wine is disgustingly cheap, and soon I'll be absolutely drunk, but better this than feeling a scraping pain from the sharp clap of the door behind.

 

The next day, Lanyon looks at me sympathetically, and I, as always, suppress an attack of irritation and go to the office. As if I don't know I look awful. As if the mirror doesn't reflect my vain attempts to cover black circles under the eyes, wrapped with a sleepless veil; as if the hands don't shake from a half-drunk and broken state; as if there's still a grain of moisture in my throat. No, I'm meticulously bringing myself to another nervous breakdown. Drop papers and reports from the table; slip to the floor; and then desperately bite my wrists, 'cause today there are still too many meetings, and I mustn't think about myself but about the good of the whole damn world.

 

And sometimes things get worse, but this case isn't one of those days.

In the evening, Hastie soothingly pats me on the shoulder, and then I run home. The rain was promised, the batteries are still cold, but I don't light the fireplace and generally behave like a person who wants to freeze. Zosi looks at me with bewilderment, I look at the notebook in front of me with the desire not to fill it with the necessary dates and names, but to tear it apart. I have nothing to do in the laboratory; no one makes me eat; and I certainly won't fall asleep.

Then comes midnight, I go up to the second floor, and under the windows, someone quietly begins to sing. A horribly familiar voice and a horribly familiar song.

 

And I can find another thousand reasons to be angry at Edward Hyde, but it starts pouring and his whining turns into a plaintive squelching, and his stupid guitar fills with water over the edge. Therefore, I collect all willpower in a fist, and with a sigh of defeat open the entrance doors and drag him inside. He bites his lips and trembles, blue and red-eyed, mumbles some stupid apologies; and I'm trying to simultaneously inflame the fireplace and take off his wet clothes. When Edward, wrapped in a thick plaid, gazes at me with an endless adoration in his eyes and moves his lips “I love you”, all I can do is sit nearby and snap his nose. And of course smile “I love you” in return.

 

Yes, life sometimes takes very unexpected turns – I think, when cool thin fingers hug me from the back and someone murmurs “good morning, my love” in my ear.


	22. Postman, what did you bring?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x](https://pics.me.me/you-shut-up-i-will-but-you-might-moan-a-18886254.png)  
>  _  
> [this album is one of the main inspos for whole collection :^))](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrhYJLT7XoU&list=PLteLtfqQ93T-gnXiOASbf_4aFwTrcLuNy)

_You never listen to me._

Henry ripped the next sticker off from the refrigerator, frowning. His and Hyde's quarrel was delaying because of the inability to see each other more often. Edward came home late, lay down on the edge of their bed and pretended to be asleep. He and Jekyll didn't have any mood to talk with each other, but to the rescue had suddenly come little sticky notes, with which the couple had been trading for several days in a row.

 

_You behave yourself like an idiot._

Edward snorted and tore the note to shreds, under Zosi's astonished glance. Of course, it's his fault, just as always! And the fact that sometimes (read as: always) Jekyll needs to listen to his assistant, in order to avoid unnecessary problems – it's nothing, such little things.

 

_If you hadn't gotten into this the last minute, it would all work out._

Henry found this note in his office and immediately rebelled in his mind. So it was he who spoiled it all, indeed! And the fact that Hyde just madly rushes to meet all the troubles of the world – probably too, right?

 

_If you hadn't gotten yourself where you shouldn't have been, I wouldn't have to, either._

Edward made an angry coffee sip and ruffled his hair. This all had started to get to his nerves.

 

_I'm not a nice little dog to hold me on a short leash._

Well, of course. Once again he turns the clock back to the topic of freedom in their relationship. Henry sighed – to Hyde it was, apparently, a sensitive subject. What's more, periodically he himself told Jekyll something like “I'm yours and only yours”. The next moment he was already hissing “I am a proud and independent person, and you're nobody to me”.

 

_Sure, only it's me who have to handle all your thousands of scars after – so better shut up._

And it's he who tells Edward to shut up? Better would keep _his_ mouth shut!

 

_You shut up._

Lanyon handed Henry a note with a decent pokerface, and Jekyll thought that he would certainly kill Hyde as fast as he'll deign to return home.

 

_Make me._

Edward had a terrible day – his legs were shaking and his head was spinning. Today he ran after a killer, who led him to another killer, and then the entire local gang decided to show up. But when the postman rang the doorbell, sniffing and holding out a short note, Hyde, suddenly and generously, began to laugh. Quarrels are certainly good…

 

_I will._

_But you might moan a little._

… but reconciliations are much better.


	23. Maids know best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October out-of-spite update because circumstances.  
>  ~~also gosh, it's so old~~

Rachel was tired. This Easter evening was coming to an end – after a delightful dinner in the Society’s hall, Lodgers dispersed into their own rooms. Mr. Archer, before disappearing, even wished her “good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite”. Not that she was really going to sleep. Rachel's hands were trembling after cooking and washing all the dirty dishes, but what she needed most were a cup of coffee and a tiny chocolate bar. So she locked inside the kitchen, crooning a merry song and straightening her pretty festive white dress. This place was… a little messy. But, as mentioned above, tiredness occupied our little maid and she didn’t really look like caring about that a lot. Rachel needed caffeine. Right now.

A strange noise made her jump and pulled back her outstretched hand. She froze, listening intently. The sudden sound then repeated, and finally, the kitchen door harshly slammed and opened. There he was. The terrifying spirit of London at night.

“Master Hyde, what are you doing here?” Pidgley put her hands on her hips, staring at the blond demon.

Hyde sniffed and theatrically waved his hand.

“Nothin’ important, girly. Just… do your things.”

She gave him another suspicious glance, but turned away and continued to make coffee. It took several minutes to realize that something was wrong. Hyde didn’t leave.

“Is… everything fine?” the maid poured the liquid in a nearby clean cup and yawned.

Mr. Hyde sniffed again and murmured something illegible, averting his eyes.

“Do you need my help?” Rachel asked softly, absolutely melted from shyness of her master.

The madman then finally made up his mind and quietly spoke:

“Where are these stupid little things that Lanyon brought to us?”

Miss Pidgley stiffened for a second but slowly began to remember.

“Ah, you mean those cute Easter postcards? We've given almost everything to the guests, but I think some may left… Do you need them?” Rachel giggled into a fist. It seemed like she suddenly understood all of the meaning in this little game.

Hyde swayed on his heels and nodded, so Rachel opened the bottom drawer of the kitchen cupboard with a quick movement, and took out a few colorful pictures.

“Here they are.” She smiled triumphantly.

London spirit bent over them and ruffled his hair, absolutely puzzled. The girl suppressed a chuckle and pointed her finger on one of the rabbits, carrying a big egg.

“You know, I think our dear friend likes green color more.”

 

And when she finally awoke the next day and looked out from the kitchen, she saw Dr. Jekyll, blissfully happy and with tiny Easter postcard in his front pocket.


	24. The Case of Strawberry Bubblegum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda 2nd part of T.G.I.F.  
> aka study ramblings.
> 
> i don't hate strawberry i kinda... dislike it.

When Henry noticed that Edward had resorted to heavy artillery – it was already too late. Their whole dorm room was permeated with strawberry. A sickening smell of little, ugly berries seemed to soak into the walls themselves; and besides the walls, in clothes as well. Whenever Henry went outside, right behind him was surely trailing an odor, attracting a) pretty freshmen b) mosquitoes. What's wrong with this, you ask? Undoubtedly, a majority of people sells their souls for transparent trays with this remarkable fruit. Medical school student Henry Jekyll did not belong to this majority. As soon as his smelling sensations suspected an ominous sweetish aroma in the air, eyes catching the redness of juicy, lush sides – he'd been having a violent urge to hide in the toilet.

However, he'd been having this urge for already two weeks. Exams were hanging over students' heads with a formidable cloud, and Henry was buried under the number of questions without answers and reminder notes. Oddly enough, Edward Hyde a similar fate avoided. Despite all the giddiness, no one had had time to beat the young chemist in praises yet – which meant that he (by some damn miracle) had everything ready for days ahead. So the remaining days, he didn't hesitate to mess with Jekyll's brain. When the messing did not yield fruitful results, the blond switched to the method “I don't know you, I live alone”. Actually that's why at that moment, Henry been sitting at the table and poring over his miserable tests with nose clamped. That villain Hyde got somewhere a gum with strawberry flavor. And _so and did_ that chew it.

When the front door swung open with comically loud “bang”, Henry didn't look in that direction. When his back was drilled with a glance, he didn't turn. When cold hands wrapped his neck from behind, the student only gritted his teeth more tightly, continuing to scribble with a pen.

“I'm tired,” sighed Edward and oh gods, he didn't smell of this _fucking strawberry_. “Wanna talk with you.”

Before Jekyll managed to bite his eager tongue, it produced a:

“Last time you kinda wanted not to _talk_ but to _fuck_.”

He swallowed, knowing that words ain't sparrows, not gonna fly back into the mouth, and oh Jekyll you're an idiot, boo-hoo. Generally, a lot had changed since the day when two roommates went to the ill-fated “party of the year”. Sometimes Jekyll woke up at night in cold sweat, unsuccessfully trying to sit on the bed to realize the happening – the happening only mumbled something sleepily and pulled him closer, so he quickly gave up, falling back into sleep. Edward, after that incident, didn't apologize. But he proudly announced to the whole dormitory that Henry Jekyll is his boyfriend, and judgment will overtake everyone who'd lay a single finger on him. Judgment, shortly thereafter, overtook him, moreover, Henry was angry _much_ , and hit with a toe of his varnished boot _acutely_ ; and by some miracle gave his new-found boyfriend a black eye, for which later mixed apologies with slurs. When Hyde's eye was saved, Jekyll did find a time to fully appreciate the luckiness that'd fallen on his head; and sitting on the steps of University with Rachel, received gifts in form of bouquets, sweets and plush toys with the face of an unapproachable Victorian lady. Shifting the beds together turned out to be a dreary business, but was undoubtedly worth it because _because_ – oh the rumors that bad boy Edward Hyde hasn't left anyone unsatisfied did not lie. The most surprising thing was that barely after Henry accepted the title of “idiot's boyfriend #1”, rumors were gone. Ugly blondies – those same freshmen led to the smell of strawberry – were whispering in the halls, turning silent as he passed by. Jekyll's philosophy somehow didn't suffer from this, and about the reputation of his roommate he thought once on white Tuesday, and therefore had not notice this exactly until the moment it started to bore him.

“And I'm not denying it,” Hyde gave a voice. Henry took into account that it hadn't a drop of mockery, and for some reason, this horrified him. “And still want to. But you keep ignoring me for two weeks already. Let's make up,” he finished on an unexpected note. And added completely plaintive: “Please~”

The medic took 0.01 second to give up.

“Hyde, I'm not going to sleep with you while the sword of Damocles is hanging a millimeter above my head,” Henry groaned, putting the pen aside and rubbing his eyes.

“But you'll relax at least.” Edward stretched a hand and insolently poked his nose, as if pressing a button. And as they say: press a button – have a result.

Jekyll snorted and leaned back in the chair, lifting his head and giving a stern, dark glance to the blond. Hyde looked more beautiful than the Angel of Lord. _Damnhim_.

“I'll relax when this is all over, and certainly not now, so why don't you crash at some girl with pouted lips – good God, at anyone – and leave me alone?” Henry muttered monotonously, diligently imitating the gaze not of a fool in love but of a tired student. Who he was. Until Edward didn't invade his personal space, knocking down all the waymarks with one sly smile.

“I would've done that, if I hadn't known you're going to fuck the brain out of my skull box right after,” was the answer.

And well, okay, Hyde was damn right. Before, Henry didn't consider himself a jealous type. But that was before. Before he didn't even plan to start a serious relationship within the college walls. But that was _before_.

Jekyll closed his eyes. With some peregrine way, the aura of his endless fatigue _finally_ stroke Edward too, because he sympathetically ruffled his hair and smacked in the forehead.

“Should I order a pizza at our favorite pizzeria?” the chemist drawled, somehow abruptly and suddenly dropping his positions from constantly over-aroused teenager to a caring boyfriend. Henry harrumphed internally – the mode “caring boyfriend” enraged him on 30% percents, on all the rest it hella scared; 'cause shit, a person can't change that much, sing you AC/DC lullabies, _always_ check whether you ate your breakfast, and adjust the winter scarf. He, Henry, doesn't even deserve this – endlessly frightening the halls of the university with his sour face.

“Maybe watch a movie together?”

Henry nodded weakly. Long-term resistance is still useless here, so whatever.

“New Avengers!”* much more cheerfully exclaimed Edward, shamelessly squeezing the brunet's collar.

“Or maybe-” Jekyll tried to object with zero strength in his words.

“New! - Avengers!” the blond growled, almost letting claws out.

“Fine, new Avengers."

“And then we go to bed.” Edward fell silent and corrected himself: “You go to bed, and I'm going to watch you sleep.”

“And you won't even hustle me, that's something I can't believe.” When Henry found a wide smile on his lips, it was too late, so all that was left was to grin farther on.

Hyde grunted something unintelligible and obviously not satisfied with such things get done, but nodded in agreement.

“And right tomorrow you're going to get rid of your strawberry gums, otherwise keep your hands to yourself 'till the next year!”

 

“Right tomorrow” was spreading across the room with a pleasant scent of mint, and Henry Jekyll was quite fine with this scenario.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *i wrote it when "new avengers" and i mean "infinity war" were like, months and months ahead.


	25. Norway Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me being extra, loving Norway, adding references of old J&H adaptations

It was cold in Alesund. Gray clouds were covering the sky with their fluttering wings, waves crashing against the moorings of the port with a mysterious murmur, the air savored with salt and surprising lightness. Henry ruffled his hair and impatiently glanced at the wrist of his right hand, but immediately averted his eyes. The watch – that nice family heirloom – wasn't here anymore. London's watchmaker valued it quite highly – mumbling something like “wonderful charm” under his breath, he'd been twisting it in hands so long that Jekyll got sincerely worried. But the money was given to him, and, adding it to his previous savings, the young doctor noted that he finally had enough. On the plane to Oslo, and then on the bus to Alesund – to that peculiar town in which lived the love of his life.

 

Henry grew up in a poor family and knew the value of money perfectly well; and also he knew that feelings are much more expensive. One day, he fell in love with a girl named Millicent, but she was arrogant and narcissistic, a princess for her parents and a queen for school friends. She only threw him scornful glances, and soon Jekyll completely disappeared into his studies, having lost all contact with the world outside. He wasn't disappointed; he didn't run after her, like all those unfortunate thousands of admirers; he didn't feel his heart broken. She was not for him, and he was not for her – end of the story.

In college, Henry met a smiling, freckled guy named Robert, and the story repeated itself. He was from a rich, wonderful family with a decent pedigree; it seemed weird that there weren't many skeletons in their closet. Robert shook up quiet Jekyll a little more: because of him, Henry quarreled with his parents, because of him he periodically allowed himself lower grades, because of him he lost his virginity and many-many nerves. Therefore, after college, the poor boy said he'd had enough. He didn't want such relationships and he didn't want such feelings. His friend (ex?) just shrugged and… left. Henry didn't remember to be hurt.

 

And on one dank London evening, his life made an abrupt somersault, having remained hanging in the air after. A strange, desperately swearing and bloody subject was brought to the hospital; while the nurses tried to pacify him, Jekyll drank wine and rubbed his temples as insomnia was making itself felt again. Then he took a deep breath and prepared to meet the next patient - his plans were interrupted by that direct subject bursting into his office, still swearing (but being already a bit cleaner), and trying to hide behind Jekyll's chair.

That's how Henry found the love of his life.

 

Then were countless SMS, quiet chuckles in the ear and hell of a lot of tenderness. From such a strange person, Henry expected such feelings the least: too wrong and harsh, too rude. Like a sharp watercolored sea-shell, you can't hold it in your hands, just admire from afar. For Jekyll, this shell had become home, and everything that someone's shell can become for one like him.

 

“… where is the watch?”

Henry abruptly turned around and met with suspicious green eyes and a red scarf – his gift, by the way. Of course, he noticed. Always notices everything that happens with Jekyll.

“Sold it.”

Edward even stopped breathing for a second, so genuinely amazed he was. When the first shock passed, he frowned and took a step towards the doctor. Now the last one ceased to breathe.

“What for?”

Henry wanted to take a step back, but there was nowhere to step – a thin iron partition separated him from the splashing water below.

“To come here.”

Hyde moved the corners of his lips and reached even closer. Damn, there was absolutely _nowhere_ to retreat. And Jekyll had a good reason, though – the green-eyed was just a horrible kisser. Henry had already managed to get used to it, but… that doesn't change the whole fact.

“You could've just asked me, we'd divide the pay in half.” Edward rubbed his nose against Henry's cheek and loudly smooched his cheekbone. “Although I'm glad you sold this shit… Hope your father will forgive me, but it was just disgusting.”

The doctor bit his tongue, desperately trying to suppress a chuckle – the image of his father clinging to the heart now stubbornly settled in his brain. Aloud he said:

“Edward, if only he'll find out we're dating, it will already be a bolt from the blue for him.”

Hyde openly guffawed, got a poke in the side and started giggling more moderately. Henry for the poke regretted with immediate speed – his frozen fingers frantically ached with joints.

“And I sold the music box,” the blond suddenly stopped, looking at his love with round eyes.

Jekyll choked.

“Why?”

Edward fidgeted in place, shrugged his shoulders, and cast a hazy glance into the distance. The young doctor wasn't satisfied with such an answer.

“No, really, why? Did something happen? I mean, this is… all that remained of your mother.”

Edward really loved to share memories of his family, especially of his mother, with Jekyll. For him, she was a whole, beautiful world: world of silver, cello, and lullabies. She left him with her hair, eyes, and spirit – occasionally, Henry thanked her for all of this.

“… so did something happen?”

Hyde jerked sharply, nodded to himself, and resolutely smiled with an unmatched cat-ish grin, pulling Henry by his sleeve.

“You came here – and it's an awesome present for me! But I prepared a present for you, too. So let's go home until you'll die of cold, and I… I'm going to show it to you.”

Jekyll had time only to nod, sneeze and bleat something – then he was dragged away from the port.

 

It was cold in Alesund, but Henry felt warm. Because the fireplace and tangerines, and sweetened coffee with cinnamon; because country music on an old tape recorder and tiny Christmas lights throughout the house; and also because the beloved person babbles all sorts of nonsense and desperately blushes while giving him a tiny wooden box.

_In it – ring._

_And mother bequeathed to sell the music box as soon as the special person would appear._


	26. But you'll never be alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tt2k8PGm-TI)  
>  there will be a day when i write this au full size. but it's not that day.

Night Las Vegas is stifling dry, Henry runs out of air, but this is the last thing he cares about right now. Before his eyes dance colored blinks, a riot of paints mixes in an ominously bright palette, chambermaids' bells and howling of slot machines quietly rings in his head. Today isn't even a day anymore – it's an endless series of pungent-smelling drinks, sweaty hands, and blurred-burning kisses that turn the world from floor to ceiling.

Somewhere near here – Edward. He doesn't let go of his black sunglasses, drinks much more than Henry can let himself, and periodically nervously places his fingers on a handle of a sleek gun. He can't afford to relax, but takes pistachio ice cream and allows to put on himself a headband with neon-green antennae. He laughs when Henry wins a small amount at the casino; smiles when Henry chokes and coughs from spicy sauce in a hot dog; and bites his lip when Henry half-drunkenly flirts with a ridiculously dressed bartender.

In the end, he just drags Henry into a dark alley and kisses until Henry starts begging for mercy.


	27. Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some thing i wrote during 2018 nanowrimo.

“I love you.” Jekyll giggles, feeling warm embrace from behind his back. The dinner is almost ready, its smell spreads through the clean air of their kitchen, spice and honey intertwined. Everything rings.

*

“I love you.” It’s written all over his lips. Hyde tries to suppress a horrible, foolish smile to the last but it still lifts the corners of his mouth and lights the world. His husband stands on the lower floor, in a presence of British royalty; yet his eyes look only at Hyde.

*

“I love you.” Henry gulps a moan, clinging to the body over him with hands, legs, and his whole existence. No, this is unbearable. He seriously can’t just lay like that any longer. His neck and shoulders burn with kisses, chest goes up and down heavily. He sniffs and looks up with tears in the eyes. Well, it works.

*

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” hears Edward, trying to grab his ever-elusive consciousness. Pain spreads through his body like a wildfire, it makes his fists clench, teeth bare. When his eyelids flutter open, the first thing he hears – a quiet buzzing of a heart rate monitor; smells – clean sheets and medicaments; sees – tired head of brown hair beside. As if realizing his husband has awoken, Henry jumps on a hospital bed and Edward notices trails of tears on his cheeks. Nevertheless, they both smile. For they are both alive.


	28. Salt and Sugar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like my favorite trope hhhhhhhh

Jekyll wasn't sure he could forgive Hyde so quickly. Not only did this blond idiot disappear for a whole week, in the end, he almost destroyed Elizabeth Tower, bringing devil knows from where coming terrorists. Of course, the Society did not have to pay for the damage, because the queen's generosity and patronage towards the charming blond couldn't be explained rationally. She just shrugged and returned Edward Hyde to his husband. Very, very pissed off husband.

In addition, the madman himself was in no hurry to apologize. At all the indignation poured on him, he kept being obstinately silent, folding his arms over his chest and allowing Jekyll to treat his wounds. Not even a simple “sorry” was mumbled. Spent the night on a sofa in the living room, leaving Henry to sleepless existence upstairs, as if he were to blame for everything here.

On the third day, the good doctor got pretty tired.

 

Sunny winter mourning is an undoubted good for the foggy city of London. Tender sunlight spilled over the kitchen, frosty patterns decorated stained-glass windows, Zosi quietly snored under the table; and Henry Jekyll was making his revenge. He resolutely shook the sweet powder out of the sugar bowl and poured the contents of salt shaker inside. When the reverse exchange was made in its direction too, Henry hesitated for a moment and bit his lip. Not often you do such cruel things with your own husband.

However, no one gave him a time to think: familiar “ding-dong” was heard at the door, and Jekyll hurried to open, muttering to Hyde who slipped from the living room “coffee on the table, get sugar yourself”.

On the threshold stood sleepy Rachel Pidgley, and no less sleepy Hastie Lanyon; both of them squinted at Henry with their sleepy eyes, obviously trying to remember why did they come here, in the first place. Jekyll knew it well, so he pulled the guests inside and rushed upstairs, for Society's documents. Returning, he realized that everyone was already in the kitchen, in the company of Mr. Hyde; and got mad at the latter even more than before.

But when he slid inside and saw a beautiful, large, with crossed bones and a skull coffee mug in his husband's hands – Henry involuntarily swallowed. Without looking, he thrust the documents into Lanyon's palms, trying very hard to penetrate into a suddenly eroded topic of conversation, but being very much distracted by Hyde. That same Hyde who, as if nothing had happened, talked with Rachel, quietly sipping from a mug and expressing absolutely no… extra emotions. Jekyll had strong doubts; doubts were dispelled when Edward, having caught his eyes, saluted him with a damn pirate mug and took a long, ostentatious sip. Death itself froze in his emerald eyes – Henry even lost his voice in response to some question from Hastie and released only a plaintive, choked half-cheep. It is likely that Lanyon identified this sound as “time to fuck outta here”, because after a minute he was already on the threshold again, holding an armful of papers in one hand, and Miss Pidgley's elbow in another.

“I, I'll be joining you soon,” said Jekyll. “In a few hours maybe, yes...”

But while his guests were shuffling around the hangers, putting on their outwear, someone sneaked up to the good doctor from behind, and this someone softly, almost gently murmured in his ear:

“Thanks for the coffee, darling~ It has such an unusual taste, I think you should try it too~”

And, feeling the goosebumps running across his skin like a herd of rabid horses, Henry ingloriously rushed forward to the exit from the house.

“Although you know, the work ain't waiting, huh? I'll go right now, the Society needs a strong hand, after all-”

Hastie and Rachel exchanged glances when their friend pulled on a raincoat at the speed of light and flew out of the door; Edward Hyde grinned slyly, finishing his salty, but made with love, coffee.

 

Henry did not want to come home that night; therefore, home came to him, and clearly showed what happens for playing pranks on your spouses.


	29. Night Butterflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~wrote it when i felt bad.~~

Edward is eighteen and really wants to find himself. Somewhere on the periphery, on the very border of his youth – smoothly flowing into adulthood – he realized that this world would've managed much better without him than with. This is evidenced by healed – and some still fresh, covered with a bloody crust – scars on his arms, an eternal pack of poison-cigarettes in the pocket of worn jeans, and black circles under the eyes, either from eyeliner or lack of sleep. In the morning, he avoids meeting his “you're-fine” parents, during the day skips another very important class, and jumps from roof to roof, competing with the town's kids. In the evening, lazily watches as the same kids push a young boy into a dark corner - a whirlwind of light brown hair, nerd glasses - and stretches under his weak protests.

 

Edward is eighteen and all colored in thousand and one tonal creams, pink plump-lipped "fuck-me" girls hover around him like a flock of butterflies. Or magpies. You can't beat girls – they themselves can fight worse than any black belt out there – so he tries to pass them by with tenth and thousandth way, muttering under his breath and lighting up another cig. A new boy is being transferred to the school, apparently some kind of snob again – at a break, whispers to him stuffed with drugs Simon* – and it's not that he cares at least somehow; and it's not that at this moment of his life he cares of anything. At home, he locks the door to his room and turns on black metal to the chatter of glass, ignoring the outrage of those below, beside, and on top. Doesn't sleep until five o'clock in the morning and salutes his own sour face with a middle finger.

New snob student's name is Henry.

 

Edward is eighteen and everything is amazing (a lie). All his plans of not-giving-attention-to-some-snobs are flying down to dog's tail when Henry randomly looks at him in the cramped school hall and smiles. Quite so silly, as if he doesn't know Hyde's rotten through, saturated with smoke and shadows from under bitten nails; hunts down all such poor, sunny boys, not paying attention that he spoils their bright future. By the end of the first week, no attempts to frighten away (that's what never was, but better safe than sorry) end with success. By the end of the second, Henry bites his lip, suppressing laughter after finding a note on the bedside table and “let's meet, no, I didn't follow you home”. By the end of the third, Hyde smashes Simon's nose, when already another boy gets trapped in a dark corner. _His_ boy.

 

Edward is nineteen, and when he wakes up – contemplates a balloon, idly twitching by the window: a little night butterfly, barely flapping its wings. The house in which he now lives is very, very different, tiny, merging warm-lit and own. Somewhere below (perhaps, even), he's waited by very branded pancakes with currant jam; lazy kisses and caressing hands in tangled hair.

By twenty, he plans to sneak off in some sort of a-la “all things engagement” shop and choose a ring; and surely he has heard that all early marriages end up somewhat bad, but to be honest, all of this is complete balderdash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stride


	30. Stations with Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is solely inspired by "Before We Go" movie.

Edward Hyde is surely some different kind of idiot – if that weren't so, he wouldn't have stuck at the station on such a late evening, with deer horns on his head and a face flushed from cold. He lost a bet, and lost dryly, leaving Virginia Ito contentedly rub her hands. Now, on this cold winter night, his fate was to entertain passersby with own appearance. Although who said you can't cheat a little? Now, at the station weren't too many people.

Edward was not one of those who peered into the faces, but some kind of pre-Christmas atmosphere lightly shoved him in the shoulder, making to turn his head. Here's a little white-haired kid; she jumps excitedly around the station fir-tree, touches toys with her fingertips, and giggles softly. Here's an elegantly dressed old man; easily relying on an expensive cane, he watches after leaving, as if accompanying someone close. Here's a girl and a guy; both covered in snow from the street, they laugh and embrace, not paying attention to their disheveled hair and drenched clothes.

Edward sighed and put his hands in pockets, turning away from them. In time: a tall guy suddenly bumped into him, dressed completely out of the weather and with a lost expression on his face. Hyde, at the last minute, grabbed the nearby Christmas tree, but it couldn't bear his weight and collapsed on the floor, jingling with crashing toys. The guy opposite immediately gasped in a frighten and bit his lip.

“S-sorry, I didn't wan-”

Edward interrupted his words, unceremoniously grabbing the stranger by the hand and pulling him along.

“I don't know who are you or what are you, but right now we need to get outta here and quickly. Otherwise, you will be cleaning all of this yourself.”

 

A remarkable thing – the stranger allowed to be dragged to a cheap cafe around the corner. All this time, he looked like a puppy, severely beaten by life, and Edward unwittingly wondered what had happened to the poor fellow. Therefore now, he, straightening the antlers on his head, quickly glanced at the tall guy and ordered them two cups of cocoa with marshmallows.

“Children's drink,” said the stranger, grinning at the corners of his lips.

“Well sorry, I'm not going to buy you wine, buddy,” snapped Edward, rolling his eyes indignantly. The guy opposite fell silent, and Hyde felt sorry for him again. “Rejoice that we've made it out of that station on time. A little more and the security would've pounced us.”

“You're exaggerating,” the guy muttered, taking hot cocoa from the waitress' hands.

“Maybe,” Edward didn't get embarrassed for a single second. “But I wouldn't want to check it. I have my own priorities.”

“Your priorities are to lead people who knocked you down in a cafe?” the brunet raised an eyebrow, still warming his hands on the cup. “By the way, I'm sorry for that...”

Hyde waved his hand.

“Drop it. And actually, forgive me, but you _look_ like you need a good cup of cocoa. And hugs,” he gave his stranger a speaking look. “So _by the way_ , three questions: what's your name? Where did you lose your jacket, December rules the streets? And why did you follow me?”

“His stranger” even giggled a little at the end, bit his lip again (Edward frowned), and ran his fingers across the table, drawing an invisible circle.

“I'm Henry, first. The jacket stayed at home, second. And it doesn't matter as I have nowhere to go, I mean… I don't know where to go, and...” he hesitated, searching for words in vain, but in the end just stared out of the window.

Edward understood things in such situations (at least, he _was_ in them), so suddenly even for himself, he asked:

“Did your girl break up with you?”

Henry gave him a puzzled look and then smiled shortly.

“Husband.”

Hyde opened and closed his mouth in a silent “aaahhh”, and pulled his fingers into messy hair, not knowing how to hide embarrassment.

“Why do you have horns on your head?”

The blond immediately grinned, shaking puffy antlers.

“Forget it.”

 

Henry already knew that the horned blond was named Edward, and Edward suggested to stay with him. Of course, he remembered grandma's advice of “don't talk to strangers”, but to be honest, he was incredibly tired and all he wanted was to feel at home again. Hyde had a home. Moreover, it was fun with him. And he didn't want Henry to freeze.

By the end of the evening, they seemed to have kissed.


End file.
